Bitter Reunion
by swim freak 9000
Summary: I have returned from the dead to complete this story. Murtagh/OC - what happens when Murtagh realizes he has a daughter.
1. Anna

**A/N: I now present…a random story, inspired by boredom!**

Murtagh stopped on the street corner in front of a clean-looking little blue house with the sign "Robinson's Bakery and Inn" out in front. He looked at the street sign, then down at the paper in his hand.

At the corner of Sherwood and Mill

This was it then. The place he had been hunting down for the past few weeks. And now he was here.

It was strange, knowing what was inside, waiting for him. He had not seen her for nearly four years now, though he had thought of her everyday. He wondered briefly if she had thought of him, then shook his head. She had most likely forgotten him by now, and he didn't blame her. He didn't even know why he was here.

But he did know that, didn't he? He was here because he loved her. And he missed her. Every touch, every kiss, everything. He missed her voice, her beautiful, high, carefree laugh, her personality, the way she would hold him, calm him, on particularly difficult days, the way she felt in his arms. He just couldn't let her go.

The past years had been the absolute worst years of his life. Every night he lay awake for hours, his thought and memories tormenting him. Thorn had politely asked one night, "Could you get that foolish little girl out of your head for two seconds? Some of us would actually like to get some sleep!" Well, he had said it much more…colorfully.

Murtagh sighed, and dismounted. He tied Tornac up in front, then, slowly, made his way up the creaky front steps and entered.

It was very different than what he had expected. It was bright, spotless, and crowded. He gulped. He hadn't expected much of an audience, that's for sure. To his right was a long counter. Behind it, stacked on shelves on the wall, were pies, cakes, and breads, of all shapes and sizes. To his left was an area full of people and tables. He went and sat at one in the corner, eyes quietly scanning the room for her.

He was stupid to have left her. It was a horrible thing to do; she was only 15 at the time. He was 17, and stupid, he now realized. He had made his daring escape then, losing Tornac in the process, and leaving her behind.

He had been stupid to do so. But he was also convinced (for a little while, at least) that he had done the right thing. If she had run off with him, he would've ruined her life. Her parents would've disowned her; she'd be on her own, in the streets, living off what little food and money she had. And he'd be the one to blame.

Then he met up with Eragon, and was able to forget her, at least during the day. But at night…he didn't even want to think about those horrible nights.

Then the twins had kidnapped him. He'd been forced to do Galbatorix's desire, he'd been forced to hatch Thorn, he'd been forced to do many things. He'd been in his service for the better part of three years. And he absolutely hated it.

But lately, for some strange reason, he'd been finding himself with more and more free time. After all, he wouldn't have much to do until Galbatorix actually began to move the troops into position. And he would do that soon. Murtagh wouldn't have much time to see her, perhaps this would be the last time he would see her ever again.

"Becca, I'll take over for now, you've done enough." Murtagh's head jerked up at the sound of her nickname. He looked around toward the source of the sound, and saw her. His heart skipped a beat.

It amazed him how different, yet how much the same she was. The same rosy cheeks, the same long, curly dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. The same heart-breaking smile. He couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched her, her lips moving (although he didn't hear what she said) and her graceful movements as she stepped out from behind the counter and went to go sit at a table across the room. But she was different as well, he could see that. She was older, obviously, and paler. Her hair was long now; she had always kept it shorter when he knew her. And she looked happy, but not the same carefree happiness as when they had been together. A wiser, almost sadder, happiness.

He couldn't take it anymore, having her so close. He slowly stood, and took a deep breath. But before he could take a step closer, he heard another sound echoing over all the others.

"Mommy! Mommy!" He turned and saw a little girl running across the floor. She looked about three years old. The little girl ran up to his beloved, who laughed and scooped her up, placing her on her lap. "What is it sweetie?"

"Mommy, will you read this to me?" asked the little girl, holding up a picture book. "I asked Billy, but he had to feed the horses, and I asked Carli, but she's busy sewing up the tear in her dress. I asked Tyler too, but he said he's too old for that kind of stuff." She stuck out her tongue in distaste. "Mommy, Tyler's not even as old as Billy, or Carli yet, and they read to me when they have time."

Rebecca laughed. "Of course, darling," she said as she opened the book.

Murtagh sat back down, his eyes staring at the little girl. She was pale, with black curly hair. Her tiny feet were bare, dangling high off the ground as she sat in her mother's lap, her head resting under her mother's chin as she stared at the pictures in the book. Her bright blue eyes looked strangely familiar, though he couldn't quite…of course. They were his eyes. That was his child, sitting on the lap of his Rebecca. His jaw dropped. He couldn't do much but stare.

_Shut your mouth, you look like an idiot, _said a little voice in his head. Murtagh did what he was told, but glared.

_For a second there I thought you had decided to shut up for good. Silence has never been so golden. _

_Aw, is that any way to treat your best friend. _

_I'm serious Thorn. Please, just a few more moments of silence. This is difficult enough without you constantly in my head. _

_Fine. I just wanted to warn you that you haven't got much time left. He'll be needing you soon. _

_Thanks. _Murtagh silently went back to staring at the girl and her mother. He waited patiently until the story was over before standing up again, and walking slowly across the room.

"Mommy, do you like this story?" asked the little girl, _his _little girl.

"Of course. Do you?"

"I think it's my favorite."

"Really? What's your favorite part?"

"I like when the little duckling finds his mommy and daddy again, and they get to be a family." Rebecca was silent. "Mommy," the little girl pressed. "When do we get to be a family?"

She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. "We are a family, Anna."

"But Patricia said that for us to be a family, daddy would have to be here too. Patricia has a mommy and a daddy and a little brother. Why don't I have that?"

"Families come in all shapes and sizes, dear. Some are like Patricia's, and some are like ours. I think our family is perfect the way it is. And sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I highly doubt you'll ever see you're father-"

Murtagh stopped in front of the table. "Hello Rebecca," he whispered. Her eyes bugged.

"Anna," she said quietly. "Run along and play for a moment dear. Maybe Katlyn's back." The little girl clambered out of her mother's lap and ran across the floor, and up the stairs.

"May I?" Murtagh continued as he gestured toward a chair.

Rebecca stood up. "No, I think…follow me." She led him around the counter and through a door behind it, then down a narrow hallway into a little room with a table in the center. "Have a seat," she said.

Murtagh sat, and she sat across from him. He didn't know how to begin. "Er Rebecca, I-"

"Why are you here?" she suddenly demanded. "Why? I've only just been getting used to the fact that you were gone, I had to for Anna's sake. Do you know what it's like to grow up without a father?"

He glared. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said stiffly.

Rebecca glared back, and the room was silent for a moment.

"I'm here," he said slowly, "because I missed you, Becca. Not a day goes by when I don't think of you. Not a night passes when I don't shed at least one tear for you. I made a mistake, and I came to correct it."

"Oh really? Well, there's not much you can do about it now, is there! You can't go back and take me with you. You can't go back and help me while I was pregnant with Anna, you can't go back and hold my hand while I gave birth to her. You can't go back and help me fight tooth and nail to keep her! You can't go back and undo what you did to me Murtagh." She stood and began pacing across the room. 

"It's been difficult," she said slowly. "Seeing what you were becoming, hearing the report's about the King's new Rider. It's been even more difficult not even being able to tell Anna her father's name. Or what he looked like, what he acted like. I didn't have any stories for her."

Murtagh stood as well, and began walking toward her. "What I did," he said finally, "was inexcusable. I can't undo anything I've done, but perhaps, I could make it up to you." She stopped pacing and looked at him, fire in her eyes.

"There is nothing you could do to make that up to me," she said bitterly, her face inches from his.

Murtagh remained quiet, calm. He gently cupped her chin in one had and began to lean down. She slapped his hand away and took a step backwards.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Do you think that after everything you did you can fix it with a simple kiss?"

"No," he said quietly. "I thought perhaps it could be a start, though."

"In what way?"

"I'm going to be here for you from now on, Becca," he said slowly. "I'm going to be a part of your life, and of Anna's." He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them.

"Murtagh, you can't," she whispered. "Galbatorix will make sure of that. It's dangerous. Please, please, don't let him know about Anna. Please."

"He can read my every thought," he said unhappily. "There's not much I can do to stop it."

"Then you see my point. You know that this would be different if it weren't for her. But she's my daughter, Murtagh, I can't let anything happen to her." There were tears in her eyes. "Please," she begged.

Murtagh sighed. "You're right, of course," he said. "As usual. It was stupid of me to have come."

"When you're free," she said. "We'll be together again. When we don't have to worry about her safety as much." 

He laughed, bitterly. "I will never be free."

"Then this is goodbye." Her words were soft, gentle, but still hurt more than he ever imagined they could. "At least this time it's a proper goodbye, not you running off in the middle of the night."

He nodded, slowly. "Goodbye." He leaned down and gently placed a kiss on her cheek. It was wet.

"Goodbye." She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe and pulling him into a tight embrace. He hugged her back, not wanting to let go, though, finally, he did. He looked down into her beautiful face.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I never stopped." Then he slowly leaned back down captured her mouth with his own.

Suddenly, everything felt _right. _This was where he belonged, wasn't it? Here with the woman he loved. But thanks to Galbatorix, this was the one place he could never be. This may be the last kiss he ever shared with her.

So he made it the best kiss they ever shared. He deepened the kiss, wrapping one arm around her waist and running the other one through her soft curly brown hair. He felt her instinctively wrap both arms around his neck. Then, slowly, almost guiltily, he pulled away. "Goodbye," he said one more time. He turned and walked toward the door. She stood there.

"Murtagh," she said suddenly just as he grasped the handle. He turned to face her. Tears were flowing freely down her face. "I love you too."

He smiled, then left the room, fighting back tears of his own. He left the little blue house, and climbed onto Tornac, riding out of the little village and toward the palace.

_Could you perhaps hurry up? _He heard Thorn ask. _He's not exactly happy with you._

_That makes two of us. _

_So…how was it? _

_If anything, now I've got another reason to fight him, even better than the ones I already had. _

_What?  
_

_Anna. _

**A/N: Sorry about the ending, I just wanted to wrap it up. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. And review! Please? Reviewers get cookies! And…um…world domination! And…a dragon, the color of their choice. **


	2. Escape

**A/N: I wrote Bitter Reunion because I was bored, but then I accidentally fell in love with the idea. There's actually an extremely long story behind it. So I am taking my simple one-shot idea and running with it. Yay! I'll update when I can, so…. yeah. **

Rebecca's POV

After he left I sat down at the little table in the middle of the room and bawled. I cried my poor little heart out, or would have, if I hadn't given it away already. I thought I had gotten over it. I couldn't exactly forget him entirely (not with little Anna running around, looking exactly like her father), but I could at least forget part of him. But that was forgetting part of me as well.

I realized that even after all he had put me through (whether he realized it or not) I had never, not for a moment, stopped loving him.

I had loved him as I watched through the window of "our" tower, where he had sworn to meet me, as he rode away, away from the castle, the king, even Tornac's lifeless corpse. Away from me.

I loved him when he didn't return.

I loved him when I found out I was pregnant with Anna. Sure, I stormed around the castle, cursing him and shouting and swearing and scaring all the other servants, but never has a woman (well, I suppose I was still just a girl) cursed or sworn or shouted so lovingly.

I had loved him when my parents found out I was pregnant, and disowned me, ashamed to even speak my name.

I had loved him when Anna was born. One of my first thoughts when I held her for the first time was _she looks like her father. I wish he were here to see that. _

I had loved him when times were difficult, when I lived on the streets with my newborn baby until Rosemary and Carter had taken me in.

I had loved him even during those sleepless nights, when I lay in bed, wide-awake, being tormented with the ghost of the past.

I had loved him when things got better; when Carter and Rosemary left me the inn and retired, when Anna had grown up so much I could scarcely believe it.

I had loved him even when I saw his face everywhere I looked in the city, when it was announced a dragon had hatched, when I saw what he was becoming.

And I loved him now.

Love has been described as the most beautiful, pure, sacred thing in the world. But for me, it just hurt. No, it destroyed.

I felt as though my heart had been torn out, as though I was ill, as though I would never be happy again. But I had to be happy. For Anna.

_Anna_.

A terrible thought crossed my mind. _Oh, please, no_, I begged. _Not that. Keep her secret. Keep her safe. _I silently pleaded with every god or goddess I had ever heard of. But I knew it was no use. I would have to leave.

I remembered the old lessons Murtagh used to give me. Mostly they focused on my mind, on never allowing anyone in it. He had mentioned that the King was perhaps the best mind reader in the world. Nothing could be hidden from him. Nothing.

And Murtagh knew about Anna.

I stood. We would have to run. If Galbatorix knew about her, what would he do? I had to protect her. I had to keep her secret, safe, and happy. Her happiness was incredibly important to me. She would never be happy if she were forced to live in that horrible castle, the same way I had been during my youth. And she would never be happy if she were dead.

I ran back out into the main room. "Becca, are you alright?" asked Marie, looking shocked. "You look awful. Are you ill?" Marie had been my best friend ever since I had come here. She deserved the truth, or part of it.

"I have to go," I said quickly and quietly. "Anna and I. We have to get out."

She just nodded. "I suppose I couldn't ask where?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't even know. But…could you help me?" She nodded again.

We quietly left the crowded room and went upstairs, to where the rooms were. I poked me head into one that was vacant at the moment. Anna was happily playing with the dolls Carli had graciously made for her, along with her friend Katlyn.

"Anna sweetheart?" I asked, trying to hide my worry. "We need to go, alright?"

"Where are we going?" she asked, her wide blue eyes looking innocently up at me.

"It's a surprise," I said simply.

"I love surprises!" She smiled a wide, heart-breaking beautiful smiled. "When are we going?"

"In a second. Get all your stuff together, okay? Put it all in your pack. I'll see you in a second."

"You are so lucky," said Katlyn enviously as I ran down the hall to where I slept and stuffed everything I could into two cloth bags.

"We should change your appearance," said Marie. "You're curly hair's too noticeable."

"We don't have time," I said quickly. "I'll change it later. For now we've just got to get out of the city. Fast." I grabbed the last of my possessions and walked back to where Anna was playing. "Are you ready, love?"

"Yep!" She put the pack on her back. "Ouch. Heavy." Marie took it from her.

"Thanks," I said. "Anna, we're going downstairs."

We went down to the bakery area. I dropped my bags on the counter. "I'll be right back." I practically flew down the hall behind the counter, into a back room where I had kept all my money hidden. I briefly counted it up, and then went back to the main room. I scooped up my two bags, then Marie handed me another one. "Food," she said quietly. "You'll need it."

"What would I do without you?" 

"Oh, I'm sure you'd get along fine." We went out the back door, and into the stables. "Take my horse," said Marie. "He's faster than yours."

"Thank you, once again." We both quickly had the saddle and the bags on him. He was a strong horse, but I still worried that he wouldn't be able to carry us both.

I got on him, and Marie handed Anna up to me. "Hold on right there, sweetie," I said, gesturing toward a place she could hold onto on the saddle. I turned to Marie. "Thank you for everything. You've been amazing."

"I have relatives in Furnost," she whispered. "They can get you to wherever you need to go. Ask around for Jill and Hunter Jaredson. I suggest you go to the Varden. Rumor has it they're currently in the capital city of Surda."

"Take care." I briefly embraced her with one arm, then grabbed the reins and kicked the horse. He tore out of the stables and down the streets, toward the southern city gate.

Murtagh's POV

I screamed aloud again. I had long since given up on trying to hold the screams or the tears back. The pain slowly, oh so slowly, began to ebb away. I lay on the cold stone floor, panting.

Galbatorix took a step forward. "What is it?" He roared. "What are you hiding?"

"N-nothing, my lord, I – I swear. Please…no-"

I felt another stab of pain. I was at his mercy. I was writhing on the floor, and everything I felt, or tasted or smelled or heard or saw or even inhaled was pain. He pulled out of my mind, more slowly than the last time.

"I thought we were over this a long time ago, boy," he spat. "You haven't hidden anything from me for nearly a year or so."

"And I'm still not-"

"LIAR!"

I screamed, more loudly than before. He kept it up for several minutes, and then pulled out of my mind all at once. "If you won't tell me," he said slowly, with a wry smile, "perhaps your dragon will. Guards!"

Two men with spears entered the room. They were also holding onto chains attached to Thorn, who looked terrifying and angry, but was also totally restrained.

_Thorn, _I tried to tell him quickly. _Don't tell him about Anna. Or Rebecca. Please, don't, not now. He can't know, he must not – _

_I will keep your secret. _

I sighed. _Thank you. _

"What is he hiding from me, beast?" asked Galbatorix.

_Hiding? Well, let's see…he is the one who broke the vase in the hallway by the kitchens, has he told you that? He's dreadfully clumsy, I've always said – _Thorn was suddenly jerking around unnaturally, roaring and howling in pain.

"You know what I mean!" the King bellowed.

He continued to torture him. I winced. He was the most annoying creature on the face of the earth, but nevertheless, I did care for him, to some extent. And he was suffering. All because of me.

The bond between us was strong, and seeing him tortured proved to be too much. "Stop!" I yelled. "It's the Varden! I – I met up with them, behind your back, and-" I was back on the ground in a second.

"You lie!" he screeched. "The oaths you swore would prevent you from doing so, and there are no memories of that in your mind. No, boy, you're trying to protect someone if you ask me…"

The pain was worse now, and getting worse all the times. I didn't understand what else he said, and I didn't try. My defenses were slipping, all the careful barriers I had put up around my loved ones would be gone in an instant. "No…"

"That's it?" he asked incredulously. "A girl? You foolish little…wait. There's more." He continued searching. "You've got a daughter." He said a moment later. "You fathered a child before you ran away. And you're still in love with the mother." He laughed loudly. "Wonderful."

Perhaps it was, for him. This gave him absolute control, a control he hadn't had before. I would never try to fight again. There was nothing I wouldn't do to keep them both safe. Nothing.

He called the guards in. I was vaguely aware of him describing Rebecca and Anna, and of them leaving the room in search of more guards to find and retrieve them. Galbatorix said something, but I didn't hear it. What point was there to hearing? Or to life?

_Don't show him how you feel, _said a voice in my head.

_Go away. _

_Did you see what I just did for you? You're such an ungrateful-_

_Leave me alone! _

It was quiet for a while, then, _You're scaring me. _

_How so?_

_You look…dead. You care too much about this Rebecca girl, if you ask me. Anna as well. _

_How could I not care? I love Rebecca, I've loved her for a long time. And Anna…Anna is my child. I, through some accident or miracle, call it what you will, created that beautiful, innocent, pure little girl. And now, I'm going to be the one who destroys her. _

_Perhaps some good will come of this. _

_I doubt it. _

Rebecca's POV

We raced through the city.

"Mommy, I'm scared," said Anna after a moment. "Slow down!"

"Mommy can't slow down right now, honey," I said, trying to sound soothing. "Just close your eyes and hold on tight. I'm not going to let you fall."

She held on tighter. I took the reigns in one hand and wrapped my free arm around her. She was crying. "Sh sh shhh, it's alright love. Don't cry, we're almost there." And we were. We were approaching the gate quickly now. I stopped in front of it. "We need to get through," I said quickly, without dismounting.

The guard rolled his eyes. "Of course yeh, do, otherwise yeh wouldn' be here, would yeh? Well, what business do yeh have through teh gate?"

"There's been a family crisis, I need to get back to Belatona. We were here visiting some old friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Her name is Marie," I answered quickly. "She works at an inn not too far from here."

"Your husband wit' you?"

I stiffened slightly and hoped he wouldn't notice. "He's dead."

"Hmmm…" there was something else in his eyes now, the eyes that looked over me carefully. "Yeh know, there's a price teh get outta the city."

A price? I doubted it. But I really didn't have time to argue. "What is it?"

He grinned. I realized what he was implying. I almost fell off the horse. "Absolutely not!" I cried. Hoping to scare him, I continued, "Why, when I tell my husband about you he'll-"

"You said he was dead," said the guard, looking puzzled.

He was right. I swore under my breath. I had never been good at lying. "No I didn't," I denied, hoping this guard was as stupid as he looked.

"Yes you did!"

"No I _didn't_. Now, are you going to let me through or not?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, I s'pose so. Although, perhaps if you had a little something for a poor guard…?"

"Here," I said, thrusting a few copper coins at him I had dug out of my pocket. "Now, it really is urgent I get home."

He slowly opened the gate, then stood back and saluted smartly. "There yeh go, ma'am."

"Hey you! Stop!" I heard a rough voice from behind us cry. I didn't bother looking back, and instead tore out of the city at top speed.

The sound of horse hooves followed us through the gates. Anna was sobbing now. "I'm scared. Slow down Mommy! Slow!"

"Mommy can't slow down just yet," I said breathlessly. She continued to cry.

Murtagh's POV

I was in agony. Galbatorix had scryed the scene, and as punishment, I was forced to watch. They were racing across the plains just outside the city. I knew that they could not escape. Their horse was older, weaker, and had more to carry. The King's horses were trained better, so were the King's horsemen.

Anna was crying. My love had one arm wrapped around her, and was whispering something in her ear, obviously trying to calm her. The sight broke my heart. At least, it would have, if I even had a heart. Any heart I had had been given to Rebecca, or perhaps lost somewhere while I was in the service of this horrible man.

They were catching up.

Rebecca urgently whispered something else into Anna's ear. The girl stopped crying, and was instead listened intently. She nodded.

I realized suddenly what they were going to do. They would both die, this was madness. But it might be the only chance Rebecca would have to save her, no, _our_ child.

It happened very quickly. She threw a few bags off the back of the horse, lightening its load. Then she threw herself off. She hit the ground with a dull thud; she'll have broken bones when she gets here. She drew a knife out of a pocket, and held it out. It slashed the leg of the first horse to get to her, and it stumbled. She clutched her left arm tightly against her; she had landed on it hard when she fell. The horseman leapt off his beast as it fell to the ground, drew his sword and came at her. He grabbed her; she slashed out almost blindly with the knife she clutched in her good hand. He laughed and twisted it out of her grasp, holding his own large sword up against her delicate, fragile neck.

She yelled something, looking fierce, though she must feel terrified. The other horsemen gathered around her; one hit her over the head and she blacked out. I made a mental note to kill him when they returned. They argued for a while, and then one slung her tiny figure onto his horse. They all rode up north, back to the city, the man whose horse she had hurt sharing a ride with another.

Not one of them glanced backward at the tiny girl on the old horse, slowly getting smaller and smaller as they rode south.

**A/N: So…there you go, I guess. What do you think? Please review! Please! You can have cookies if you do, and they're nice and warm and melt-y. Yum. I'll update when I can, but I go back to school tomorrow, so I'm not sure when that will be. **


	3. In which stuff happens

**A/N: I have returned…with chappie three! I don't have anything to say, so…yeah. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.**

Murtagh's POV

I stood by the front gates, pacing back and forth. What was taking them so long? I finally saw the small band of soldiers on horseback approaching the castle. "Where is she?" I asked the moment they were through the gate. One of them gestured behind him, toward a large man riding an even larger black horse. "Give her to me," I ordered. He recognized me at once, and handed her over without question.

I took her delicate and broken body into my arms. I took her up to my room, as quickly but as gently as possible.

My room was large, and mostly empty, I hadn't wanted to move into it enough to call it home. There was a large four-poster bed on one wall, a window on another, the door out to the rest of the castle on the third, and a door leading into a little washroom across from the wall with the bed.

I took her inside; kicking the door shut behind me, and softly lay her down on my bed. She made a small noise in her sleep, and for a moment her face was twisted up in pain. Even unconscious, she was still hurting.

I went to the washroom and got some of the always hot water out of the always full wash bin (it was somehow supplied by magic) and grabbed some cloths as well. I got one wet, wrung it out, the put it on her forehead. I left it there and used another cloth to clean her hands, feet and face, wiping away dirt and blood. That fall off the horse had been worse than it looked.

Next came her arm. I slowly lifted and examined it. She groaned softly. I set it back down on her stomach where it had been lying before. It was a nasty break.

I moved my hands up to her shoulder and carefully tore the sleeve at the seam, then slid it down and off her arm. I examined it again. It really was badly hurt, but I could probably fix it. I held my silver palm up over her arm a few inches and whispered, "Waise heill."

Her arm was worse than I expected it to be. I instantly began to feel the spell draining me of my strength. When it was complete, I felt extremely exhausted. I needed to rest, just for a moment. I collapsed onto the bed besides my love and shut my eyes.

I awoke early the next morning feeling extremely warm. Groggily, I opened my eyes and discovered why.

Rebecca and I had both changed position during the night. She had her face buried in my neck; her sweet, warm breath felt nice. Her hands clung to the front of my shirt, and she had one leg hitched up around mine. I had both my arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her; holding her close to me. My cloak (which I had never bothered to take off the other night) was draped over the two of us like a blanket.

I was still for a moment, unsure of whether to pull her closer or back off.

With a sigh I gave her one tight squeeze then let go. I carefully rolled off the bed, trying not to wake her. I stood and unfastened my coat, then put it over her. She sighed and smiled slightly as she dreamed.

It was still very early, and he wouldn't need me until breakfast today. Things were going rather slowly. I had to admit I loved it, and how it postponed the day when I would either die or be forced to kill my own brother, attack those who had been kind to me, and let this beautiful land fall to a ruthless madman. Accompanied by dreary thoughts, unpleasant images and a heavy heart, I went to go prepare for the day.

Rebecca's POV

I awoke early, feeling cold and absolutely horrid. My head ached, my whole body hurt – actually, that's not true. My left arm felt fine, although I was sure I had broken it. But apart from that, I was in pain. And not just physically.

My poor baby girl. My poor little angel. My Anna. She was too young, she'd get lost or hurt, and I would never find her body. I would forever live with the guilt and the nightmares and regrets of being the one to send her to her early grave.

But perhaps…perhaps I did save her, perhaps she would make it to Funost and find Marie's relatives and they would help her, smuggle her out of the Empire, and she could live a more or less safe and happy life. Was it worth the risk?

Silent tears had begun to stream down my face. I had been crying a lot lately. I stretched and sat up, a black cloak (probably Murtagh's) slid off of me. I noticed my left sleeve was missing; it must have been torn off when I fell.

I looked about the room. A little door across from me led to what I presumed must be a washroom. Wonderful. A bath would do wonders for me, I couldn't stand being dirty.

I carefully climbed out of bed and limped across the floor the washroom. I opened the door and gasped.

Murtagh was in there. He was soaking wet, and wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He wasn't facing me, but when I came in he turned. "Can I help you?"

I felt the blood rush to my face. "I'm, er, that is, I – I didn't know you were here," I mumbled, looking away.

He seemed to almost find this rather amusing. "Well, shall I leave or shall you?" he asked a moment later.

"Oh, erm, I guess I'll-"

"No, it's alright. I can get dressed in the main bedroom. Go ahead." He walked toward me and passed through the door just behind me.

"Wait," I said suddenly as I turned it around.

He faced me. "Hm?"

"You – you still have it," I said after a moment.

"What?"

"The scar on your back."

He was silent for what felt like eternity, then said, "Yes. I do."

"Does it still hurt?" I remembered when it would suddenly pain him, when he'd begin to writhe wildly on the floor, pain etched into every line on his face, as I stood nearby, unable to do anything. As we got older he learned to control it better, until you could hardly tell when it hurt him.

"Yes."

"Oh." We were silent for a moment more. "But can't you make it stop? You know magic now, you're a Rider, you're powerful-"

"No."

I nodded. "Alright then."

"Will that be all?"

My blush returned. "Yes. Sorry." I shut the door then turned to face the washroom.

There was a long tub full of hot, clean water, and a large mirror along with a small wash bin. A razor and a brush lay on the table besides the wash bin.

I undressed and slowly climbed into the bath. It felt divine. The hot water washed away the blood and dirt, and at the same time, seemed to wash away worries.

I lay in the tub, my eyes closed, thinking. Memories began to come back. Some good, some not.

I thought of when Murtagh and I had first met. We hadn't exactly gotten along very well. My mother and father and me, along with my three older brothers, had moved to Uru'baen to try to make more money working in the castle. I had been five, and he was seven. My mother's first day of working in the kitchens found me wandering the big castle halls alone, until I ran into him. I introduced myself, and he proceeded to make fun of me and pull my braids until I was actually reduced to tears. However, the next day was much better, as one of my older brothers, Spencer, had beat him up, and right before he did so Murtagh's strict nursemaid forced a rather insincere apology out of him.

Time passed. As we got older we grew closer. Both of us were in a situation where our childhood was cut short. We grew up fast.

I opened my eyes. There was more light flowing in through the tiny window over the tub, the sun was rising. I realized I was also hungry, perhaps if they (or more specifically, the King) allowed me to eat, I could get some breakfast. I sighed, then climbed out of the bath and wrapped a bathrobe around me. The fabric was soft. I looked at my clothes from the night before, and deemed them too disgusting to wear today. Perhaps I could find something else back in the room.

I quickly ran the brush through my long brown hair and walked back into the bedroom. Murtagh was sitting on the bed (which he had made), reading a book, a small package behind him.

He looked up. "You look lovely this morning, Rebecca," he remarked.

I blushed again. He was the only man in the world who could make me blush, and he was good at it. "I'm not wearing anything but a bathrobe."

"I meant that_ you_ looked lovely. Your face, your hair, your hands. I couldn't care less about what you were wearing."

"Oh." I looked away for a moment.

"Well, I thought you might, though." He handed me the package. "It's not much, but…I thought you'd like something clean to wear."

I unwrapped it and pulled out a long-sleeved, white dress with a pattern of yellow roses. A gray frock went over it. "It's lovely," I said as I felt the soft, light, yellow fabric. I loved it.

"There's more." He gestured toward something I hadn't noticed before.

He had set up a wardrobe in the corner; nothing too fancy, but bigger than I was used to nonetheless. I opened it. There were dresses in it, more than I had ever had. I took a step back. "I hate it."

"What?"

"I don't like having so many. It's too much."

"You don't have to keep it."

"Thank you for all the trouble, but-"

"I understand. Take what you'd like out of it, and I'll have the servants take it away."

I chose two simple gowns; one blue and brown and the other green and brown. They were nicer than I was used to, but closer to what I usually wore than any of the other dresses.

"The yellow dress, with the gray frock," said Murtagh, "that one was my mother's. I didn't know if you would like it or not."

His mother's. That changed things. He didn't have very much that had belonged to his mother. I had a feeling she had been attached to it, and perhaps he as well, but I didn't know how much. "It's very nice," I said after a moment. "Thank you." I took the three dresses and two pairs of shoes (one for riding and one for everyday wear) and went back into the bathroom. I put on the green and brown one; it was a little low cut for me, but I didn't have much else. I would just be very careful to not have to bend over. I went back to the main bedroom.

"So," I said.

"So."

"Now what?"

"I – I don't know."

"Ah."

"Well, actually," he said, "I've got to go report to the king. You should stay here."

I raised an eyebrow. He of all people should know that I didn't like to be confined to places. Which was one reason I had hated this castle so much. The only thing that had made it bearable was him. His friendship. His love. Him.

"I said should. But you won't, so I've asked Terrance to accompany you."

"Terrance?"

"Yes, he's waiting right outside the door."

I glared. "I don't need to be babysat Murtagh."

"But you must be protected. At all costs," he said fiercely. "I don't want you getting lost, or hurt, and the men in this castle aren't exactly…honorable. I don't trust them with you." He had always been protective of me. He had taught me how to fight, how to control my thoughts, how to read, write, etc. But did he really think babysitting me was necessary?

"Fine," I said after a moment. "Lead on."

He leapt gracefully off the bed, and to the door. I followed him. Before he opened the door, he paused. Slowly, he turned to me.

"Murtagh-?"

He quickly leaned down for a moment and briefly brushed his lips against my cheek. "Be safe," he whispered. "I don't want to loose you again." Then he opened the door.

Terrance was a nice, dark-skinned slave boy, perhaps a little younger than me. It was clear Murtagh trusted him. "Take good care of her," were his last words.

After Murtagh was out of sight, Terrance turned to me. "So, milady," he said politely. "Where to?"

I thought. Where did I want to go? "Is there a library here?"

"Erm," he looked uncomfortable, "yes ma'am, but it isn't open to women. Or slaves, for that matter, and my master gave me strict instructions to accompany you everywhere."

Of course. It figured. After all, this was Galbatorix's castle. The only books I had ever remembered reading were ones Murtagh had stolen for me.

"Then I have no preference as to where we are going. I'd like to wander."

"After you, milady." He bowed slightly, but enough that I was uncomfortable with it.

"Please don't do that," I said.

"What?"

"Bow. Or call me "milady". It's Becca."

He looked up at me in awe. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I'm a slave boy."

"Yes, and I'm a brunette. I really don't care. Just…please be less polite."

He nodded, wide-eyed.

I spent the rest of the morning wandering aimlessly, trying to remember the castle and forget about Anna, though, of course, the latter was impossible. Every once in a while, when I set off down a particular corridor, Terrance would put his hand on my arm. "Not that way," he would say. "My master wants you to stay away from that part of the castle." He would gently pull me back the way we had been gong before, leaving me to wonder what Murtagh wanted to keep me from.

Eventually Terrance became more comfortable with me. I asked him to talk to me, and he told me stories about his two little sisters, Mae and Ally, and about his family, and funny stories from working in the castles. He started asking me questions as well.

"Forgive me for prying, but what about your family?" he asked.

"Well, I have a mother and a father who I haven't seen in four years, and three older brothers who I love very much."

"What happened to them?"

"They died," I said slowly. "In the battle of the burning plains. They never liked being soldiers anyway, so I suppose it's not all bad…"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I shouldn't have, that is, I didn't know-"

"No, it's fine. I like talking about them. The oldest two were twins, Peter and Christopher. I was very close to my other brother, Spencer. I'll miss them." I was quiet for a moment, thinking of them, as Terrance respectfully refrained from saying anything.

Later in the afternoon, after Terrance had taken me to the kitchens so I could get something to eat for lunch, a short and stout little maid ran up to us. "Excuse me, but are you Lady Rebecca?" she panted.

"Becca," I corrected.

"You are her, then?"

"I suppose."

"The girl master Murtagh's taking care of?"

"Yes."

"Come with me. The King needs to speak with you."

**A/N: Gasp. Oh no. What will happen? Hm…**

**Firstly, allow me to apologize for not updating in forever. I'm currently really really REALLY busy with school, and life sucks. I really would rather be writing this than studying. **

**Secondly, I'm trying to decide how to write this. Do you like the story more the way I wrote it in the first chapter, or when I tell it from Murtagh and Rebecca's POV? Next chapter, I'll be experimenting with it, so…yeah. Tell me what you think. **

**Thirdly, REVIEW. And then you may have a hug. And I update faster when I get more reviews. **

**Farewell, until we meet again… **


	4. Mini Chappie!

**A/N: First, let us have a moment of silence for the fact that I have actually written something over two chapters that I'm not totally sick of yet. **

**Second, let us have a moment of silence for Rebecca's brothers who died in the incredibly stupid war. **

**Third, let us have a moment of silence for Anna, and let us hope she is safe. **

**Okay, we're done being quiet. Go ahead and scream. Louder! LOUDER! Good. So, to business. I think I could manage one long chapter a week or so, but I'm not going to do that. The next chapters will be shorter. Sorry, but I think I'll be able to update more often if they are. Yay! **

**Disclaimer: This is all Paolini's. **

Rebecca's POV

I followed the girl, the blood slowly draining from my face. This was it then. Either they had found Anna, and brought her here, or she was dead. My baby was dead.

I held my head high as I fought back tears. I wasn't going to let him win. Or at least he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

The girl led me down twisted hallways I had no memory of, and through a pair of large wooden doors and into the throne room. We went to the middle of the room, then stopped. I stared at the floor.

"Lady Rebecca, your majesty," I heard the girl say.

"Good." The king's voice was sharp and menacing. "You may leave." I heard the girl exit the room. "You too boy." Terrance (who had been standing behind me) left as well.

"So," he said, "you are the silly little girl Murtagh has believed himself to have fallen in love with."

I said nothing in reply, and I heard him get up out of the throne and come toward me.

"I don't see why," he continued. "You do not seem to be anything extraordinary." He reached forward and cupped my chin in a hand. I didn't like the feel of his hands. And I was still silent, not meeting his gaze.

"You aren't particularly beautiful," he observed. He let go and began to circle me. "You aren't smart, or wealthy, you're nothing. Your parents disowned you when you were fifteen. You were a cook at an inn. You never went to school; you aren't powerful in any way. Why would he ever love someone like you?"

I still didn't reply, silence was my only defense. The king stopped in front of me again. "Do you have nothing to say?" I just shook my head.

"I see. I must admit I am rather surprised, though. Murtagh seemed to remember you as rather headstrong and talkative."

I looked up at him for a moment, curious.

"It wasn't by choice that he shared those memories with me, of course," he continued. "But he can't hide anything from me, no matter how hard he tries. I went through every memory he had of you. Yes, every one. From your first encounter with one another, to the magic lessons, to your fifteenth birthday, to the last time you saw each other. I'm surprised he hadn't guessed about Anna before he left, I could tell in an instant. And you were already two months along the night he fled, the man must be blind."

I looked back at the floor. Of course he knew about Anna, how could he not? It just hurt to hear him say so.

"So," he said. "Where is the girl now?"

I was silent.

"Well? I assure you, my dear, I'm being much nicer than usual. But if needed, I can be much, much, more convincing…"

Silence.

"Very well. I shall ask you one more time. Where is she?"

"What girl?" I asked innocently. Wrong answer. A wave of pain suddenly coursing through my mind had me on the floor in an instant. I shrieked as the pain intensified, then slowly ebbed away, leaving me shaking on the floor.

"You know whom," he said, glaring down at my pathetic figure. "Anna. Your daughter."

"I – I don't have any idea-"

Another wave of pain. I screamed and cried and writhed on the ground, while he stared at me, hate in his eyes.

"You're blocking me," he said after the pain stopped. "This would be so much easier if you would just let me into your mind, silly girl!" More pain. It lasted longer this time, and even after it was gone I still hurt.

"Well?"

"I don't know – wait! I don't know how I could possibly block you. I don't know these-" I screamed again.

"LIAR!"

The pain was there for what seemed like eternity. Finally it left. "I – I meant, sire, that is to say, I think I have a theory?"

"What?"

"I'm," I paused for a moment, then groaned in pain. "I'm her mother." I still hurt. "She's my child. I can't not protect her."

He glared at me again. My eyes met his; I whimpered.

"Perhaps. It would make some sense, I suppose. If I am to get any information about her, it will not be from your mind. So. Tell me."

It wasn't hard to reply. I didn't hesitate. "No." I was hit with a fresh wave of pain, every inch of me hurt. I shrieked and sobbed and cried out to Anna, to my brothers, to Murtagh. "Stop!" I begged. "Make it stop hurting." Eventually I could no longer form coherent sentences. The king did not stop.

After living with something for a while, you begin to get used to it. But not this sort of pain, this sheer agony.

I couldn't tell when he stopped; it still hurt as though he were torturing me. "Pathetic," he whispered, as he walked toward the door. I was still on the ground, tears streaming down my face, still in pain. "We will find her, you know," he said. "I was going to allow her to come here. To live. But now I think I'll have my men just kill her the moment she's in sight." He left.

I don't know how long I was on the throne room floor, unable to move or speak. Eventually I sat up. I limped to the door, but found myself unable to open it. "Help," I called weakly as I used what little strength I had trying to make some noise, any noise.

It was a miracle someone actually heard me, and was brave (or stupid) enough to investigate. The door opened to reveal a thin, sickly looking maid with pale blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. She didn't seem quite real, for a moment I thought she was a ghost.

"M-murtagh?" I choked.

"I'm not sure where he is, ma'am."

I nodded. "Terrance?"

"Right this way." She gently lifted me up with more strength than I expected her to have, and then started dragging me through the halls.

We eventually reached some distant part of the castle, apparently the servant's quarters. The girl led me up to a door and knocked. Terrance opened.

"My lady!" he cried as he reached for me. The servant girl handed me over then left. "Are you alright? You look awful, when my master hears about this…" for a moment he suddenly looked frightened.

"It wasn't your fault," I croaked.

"Would you like anything?" he asked.

"Water…" It was in my hand in an instant. I drained the glass quickly. "Thank you. That's much better." I smiled weakly.

"Now what?"

"I – I want to go find Murtagh."

"Of course, milady. He's down in the training fields."

**A/N: Wow. That was a lot shorter. I hope you don't mind. Oh, and, since this was so short, I didn't really have time to experiment with perspective. Oh well. **

**Oh! I almost forgot! To all you people who have ignored my requests for reviews: I know you're reading this! I've seen the number of hits! Don't try to hide – REVIEW instead. **

**Thanks. ******


	5. Chapter Bake Sale

**A/N: Halloo. : ) On with the show! **

**Oh, and the chapter's called what it's called because I was making cookies for the school's bake sale while I wrote it. **

Rebecca's POV

Terrance led me (well, dragged me, more like it) through the castle, and finally out into the brilliant sunlight that nearly blinded me. He took me over to the stables and helped me to sit down.

"Stay here," he said. "I'm going to find Master Murtagh." I nodded, and sat slumped in my seat until he returned, panting.

"H-he's not here, but he'll be back shortly," he wheezed. "He went flying with Thorn."

"Thorn?" I mumbled.

"The big red dragon."

I nodded again. "When?"

"When what? Oh, when will he be back? Soon. Within an hour."

"Oh." We waited in silence for a while, until we heard shouting outside. "The Rider's returned!" "He's back!" "Duck!"

A moment later Murtagh came tearing into the stables where we were. "What happened?" he asked wildly.

I smiled weakly. Terrance cringed.

"Oh, Rebecca," he said, in a quiet voice. "What did he do to you?" He took a few steps forward.

"She's as good as dead," I whispered. "He's going to kill her."

He looked slightly puzzled. "Terrance, you may go." The boy left, leaving us alone in the stables. "Who's dead?"

"Anna."

He inhaled sharply, then closed his eyes. "Is she here?"

"No, they haven't found her yet. He was going to spare her, to let her come here and live. But now he's not! Now he isn't, my poor baby girl, she's dead, and it's all my fault, I should have told him, I, I, I…" Tears began to stream down my face.

He opened his eyes and helped me to my feet before pulling me close to him. "No," he said quietly, "you did what you thought you had to. Nothing is your fault. None of this."

I buried my face in his chest. "What if they don't kill her quickly? What if it's long, and drawn out, what if it's like what he did to me today, only ten times worse? What – what if - ?"

"Shhh…" he crooned. "Shhh…don't cry. Don't cry."

I couldn't deal with this. I wasn't strong enough, I just couldn't. It was my fault that she would die. No matter what Murtagh said, it was my fault. It would always be my fault. I would have to live with that forever. For eternity. Until the day_ I_ died, and possibly more. I thought that I could save her. But I couldn't. I hadn't. She would die.

Die.

Dead.

Gone.

Forever.

For a moment I hesitated, then suddenly reached up and touched my lips to his. "Make me forget," I whispered. I kissed him again. "Make me forget about the pain. Make me forget about my baby girl. Make me forget my own name." I kissed him a third time, wrapping my arms around his neck in the process.

For a second he was still, and then began to kiss me back with enthusiasm. I pulled myself to him as tightly as possible, but still not tightly enough.

"No." He broke away, suddenly. "No."

"Why?" I demanded.

"No. You're confused. You're hurt, you're grieving, you aren't thinking straight."

"I don't want to think straight!" I demanded, clinging to him like I was drowning.

"It wouldn't be fair," he said, breaking my grasp and looking away. "I'm not that kind of man. I refuse to do that to you. I'm not going to take advantage of you when you're like this."

"That's not enough of a reason," I protested. "Please. Please, Murtagh. I don't – I don't want to have to think about anything, for a few hours. A few minutes. Please."

"No." He turned to face me again and grabbed my shoulders, staring me in the eyes. "Rebecca, what if you got pregnant again? What then? Would you really want to bring a child into this world under these conditions?"

"It won't happen."

"But it might. It might, and we'll have no one to blame but ourselves."

As his eyes bored into mine, I suddenly felt ashamed, and to some extent, rejected. I looked away, my face on fire. "No," I said. "We'd have no one to blame but me."

"Never Becca," he whispered, "you'll never be the one to blame."

He was wrong.

That night I lay in the bed alone (Murtagh had insisted I take it, although he slept on the floor), exhausted and tired, but still unable to sleep. I glanced at the window.

It would be so easy, wouldn't it? To just get out of bed, step over Murtagh's unconscious figure, and leap? To freefall for a moment, and then to not have to worry about anything ever again.

No, what was I thinking? That was insane. Crazy. I shook my head and rolled onto my other side.

Again, wouldn't it be easy? To creep out of this room, to the chamber down the hall to where I had seen the servants polishing swords earlier? To thrust one deep into my broken heart?

I shook my head again. This was madness. I couldn't do that. I rolled onto my back, and looked down past me feet toward the door leading to the washroom.

It was all too easy. The tub was always full during the day, why wouldn't it be at night? Maybe I could find something to weigh me down. After a few moments without oxygen I'd pass out. A few more minutes and I'd be gone.

I mentally yelled at myself. This was stupid. I looked up at the canopy hanging above me.

So easy. So easy to grab one of the ropes attached to the curtains, to hang it over the pole holding up the canopy, and tie the other end around my neck. So easy to jump of the bed and dangle, lifeless, in midair.

No no no no no!

That was the coward's way out. I wasn't necessarily brave, but I wasn't that afraid.

Well, maybe I was.

But I couldn't.

Could I?

"Stop it." His voice was low and scared me; he sounded angry.

"What?"

"I can hear your thoughts."

"Oh." I suddenly felt very vulnerable, exposed. I had no privacy whatsoever; he could read my very soul like a book. I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest.

"I would've said something earlier, but…" he trailed off. "I would've stopped you though."

"How?"

"You forget which one of us has spent the past years training to become a better and better soldier, both physically, mentally, and emotionally."

"You forget which one of us has spent the past years chasing after a little girl who can scream bloody murder and run incredibly fast for her age." It was out before I had even realized that I had said it. I felt the pain again, the absolute anguish and defeat and horror I felt when I realized that I had been the one to silence that beautiful scream, to make sure that tiny figure would never run again.

"You shouldn't think like that. You don't even know if she's dead."

"She's as good as."

He suddenly stood up and looked me in the eye. "You don't know that Rebecca. For all we know, you did save her. Maybe she's made it to safety. There are good people in the world. She wouldn't have to do it alone."

Alone. I had been alone for a long time. I had had to birth her, raise her, teach her, support her alone. I had to go through every trial, every hardship, alone, without a friend who had stood besides me my whole life. Without the kind of friend Murtagh had been, before he became something more.

I shut my eyes as I relived memories, most of them painful. Tears began to flow down my face.

I felt him crawl onto the bed to sit beside me. "I did that to you, didn't I?" he asked. I didn't reply. "I can see your memories as clearly as though they were my own. There's no point in denying it."

I hung my head. It was true; he had more or less been the cause of many of my hardships. As tears continued to run down my face onto the blanket below, I inwardly cursed myself for being weak.

I thought of what the king had said earlier. And I realized he was right.

I wasn't beautiful. I had always envied the other girls who were thin as a pole and had long, gorgeous blonde hair. I wasn't smart. Murtagh had taught me how to read and write, but other than those secret lessons, I hadn't had any schooling. I wasn't brave. When I was faced with a problem or made a mistake, I ran. I hid from it. I wasn't strong. I didn't even have the willpower to live.

"Rebecca," he murmured softly, "do you really think that?" He started to wrap an arm around me, then paused, and pulled back. "Rebecca, you have to be one of the strongest people I know."

"You don't know very many people, then."

"Rebecca, you are brave, you are beautiful, you are smart. You're brilliant. While we were growing up together, I would often grow tired of hearing the same person's thoughts over and over again. But never yours. Every thought of yours was beautiful, when I went into your mind it was like diving into poetry."

"But not anymore."

"No, not…not anymore."

"Why?"

"Now you don't try to fine the beauty in everything. You only look for something else that's wrong with this world; and you find too much of that. Where you once found hope and peace, you now only see as more misery and despair."

I thought about his words. He was wrong; to some extent. From the moment Anna came into my life, to the moment he had returned, I had been happy. She had filled my life with joy. When she was born, I learned to laugh again. She was sunshine in a world of darkness, hope in a world of pain.

**A/N: Yeah…I couldn't figure out how to end it, so I just ended it there. I'm so sorry if Rebecca's turning out to be another dreaded Mary Sue! How can I avoid that? **

**  
Oh, and I think Anna's going to be in the next chapter. Just for all you Anna fans. I'm not positive though, so don't get your hopes up. **

**One more thing: As some of you may (or may not have) noticed, I'm having a bit of trouble naming chapters. If you have a name to suggest, I am more than happy to use it. **

**REVIEW! **


	6. I just ran over a tree! Sweet!

**A/N: Well...chapter six, I guess. It's named what it's named because I went four wheeling right before I wrote this. **

Murtagh's POV

I awoke before her again, in the early hours of the morning. I stretched, then stood. I looked down at the bed where she lay.

She looked peaceful, almost happy. I watched her chest slowly rise and fall, and a moment later I realized I was matching my own breathing with hers.

Slowly, I reached out to touch her face, to tuck a brown curl behind her ear and out of her eyes. I stopped while my fingers were inches away. I was afraid I'd hurt her; break her, when she was in such a fragile state both physically and mentally. Hadn't I already caused her enough pain?

I pulled away, and then leaned in close to her. I took a deep breath. Gently, I briefly touched my lips to hers, savoring the taste. I pulled away from my sleeping beauty for a moment, and studied her face.

She wasn't particularly pretty by the world's standards, but she was beautiful in her own way. When looking at her one generally didn't notice her long eyelashes and how they contrasted her pale skin perfectly. One didn't notice the perfect shape of her round, full lips, or her long, nimble fingers.

If one were to look at her they'd notice the dark circles under her eyes, and they'd be able to tell she'd been pregnant with Anna. They'd see how tired and weak and sick she looked.

She wasn't particularly smart, either. I had managed to teach her basic reading skills, but that was about it. She could measure things, and she could carry on a more or less intelligent conversation, though nothing really about politics or war.

And yet, I loved her.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that with true love, it didn't really matter how beautiful or smart you were. What mattered were the qualities she had shown me. Her pure heart, her faithfulness, her optimism, her hopefulness. Her ability to make me happy, to find beauty in the darkest of places, her thoughtfulness and kindness. Her love

I realized that ever since our friendship had started to become something more, I had known I loved her, and I had told her so, though I never fully comprehended it. It hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of me. I loved her, and I always would.

I stood there, staring at her for a moment more before I sighed. I had things to do, people to see, dragons to argue with. I kissed her once, briefly on her forehead, just as she opened her eyes.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright," she said quietly. "I wasn't exactly having a wonderful dream."

"I could fix that."

"What?"

"The nightmares."

She looked at me intensely, her expression blank. For a moment I was about to dip into her mind and see what she was thinking, but I refrained from doing so. It wasn't fair. "How?" she finally asked.

"A simple spell, nothing too complex."

She continued to stare for a moment more, then sighed and looked away. "No," she said. "No magic."

"Why?" I asked, puzzled. "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't think it's…right, I guess. If it's going to rain, it should rain. If someone's going to die, they should die. If I'm going to have nightmares, I should have them. The world, nature, it shouldn't be messed with."

I shrugged. "Maybe." Her theory was interesting, though whether I liked magic or not, I was going to have to use it. I stood up straight and got my cloak from off a hook on the wall, and began to put on my boots.

Her forehead creased. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," I said as I fastened the cloak around me. "But not for long."

"What about me?"

"I asked Terrance to watch you again."

"I don't like it," she said, sitting up in the bed.

"What? I think he's a perfectly nice boy-"

"Not Terrance, being…" she trailed off and looked at her lap.

"What?" I was once again tempted to enter her mind, but then decided not to. Her mind should be a sanctuary.

"I don't like being away from you," she admitted, her face turning red as she continued staring downward. "For a while, when I had Anna, I was alright, but otherwise…I just miss you."

I didn't like being away from her either. I was glad she didn't know exactly how much I had missed her while she was away. It made me feel weak.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "You've probably got more important things to do than baby sit me all day."

"No, in fact, if I had the choice I'd take you with me," I said. "But I can't right now."

"I know, I didn't expect you to anyway," she said. She smiled weakly and got out of bed. "I ought to get dressed."

I nodded and turned to go out the door. But right before I reached it, I turned back to face her. "I'll see you at about midday," I said. "I want to take you somewhere."

"Where?"

I grinned. "Have you ever been flying before?"

**A/N: Well, there you go. Sorry it's so short and it took so long to update. Life is insane right now. Seriously. And not in a good way. I'm in a fight with my best friend, I've got three huge tests coming up, and my swim coach seems determined to either whip us into shape now in preparation for the Boise meet, or have us die in the process. Ugh. **

**Because life is so insane, I think I might not be writing as well. Opinions on this chappie are welcome. And wanted. **

**I hope you liked this chappie. I was reading through my story, and I realized exactly how depressing it was. So next chappie is probably going to be a lot...un-depressing-er. **

**Review! **


	7. Dish soap

A/N: Hello again. Okay. Let's see if I can make this one longer... 

**Oh yeah, this is named after the dish soap because it keeps the dishes oh so clean. Yay. **

Rebecca's POV

"Ouch!" I yelled again, startling Terrance as I poked myself with the needle yet again. I dropped the pillow cover I had been working on and held my forefinger up to examine the damage.

"Are you alright?" asked the slave boy.

"No," I snapped angrily.

"Here." He handed me a scrap of gauze that I wrapped around my finger.

"How do people do this?" I asked, glaring at the pillow cover. I had been trying to get my mind off of...well, everything, and in a desperate attempt to do so I had decided to try my hand at embroidery. It turned out to be a very bad idea.

"I wouldn't know, ma'am," he replied. I had to hand it to him. He had been very patient with me this morning. I had been really moody. I went from happy to sad to angry in a heartbeat.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Master Murtagh should be back within an hour." He must have answered this question thousands of times in the last few hours.

"Alright then." I examined my embroidery for a moment, before putting it down with a sigh. There was no chance I was going to finish that...was it a flower or a bird? No matter. I wasn't going to try anymore. I stood and began pacing around the room.

A while later, there was a knock at the door. There stood a little girl, perhaps nine or ten years of age, who looked remarkably like Terrance. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hey there," said Terrance happily. "This is my sister Abigail."

"Hello," I said politely.

"Mama says that I should give you this," she said, holding out a piece of paper. "And also that you need to work extra hard today and come home early, 'cause it's Emma's birthday and she's making something special after her usual work is done."

"Right-o." He took the paper and gave her a quick hug before sending her off. "It's my other sister Emmaline's birthday," he explained. "She's turning three."

I nodded. I couldn't help but wonder...seeing this family, seeing something so normal while everyone else seemed to be going insane, was strange. I wondered briefly what it would have been like if Murtagh hadn't left. Would we have had more than just Anna? I was young when she was born, but many girls married and had children young, some even younger than I. When I was really little I decided that I was going to have twelve girls, and I had named them all and planned out my house, everything. What really happened was very different.

"I'm sorry, milady," said Terrance, folding the note back up. "Murtagh won't be able to return until later this evening."

"Oh," I was aware of how my shoulders drooped and my face fell. "Alright then."

The rest of the day was nothing important. I ate when I was hungry, slept a little when I felt tired, wandered some when restless. Eventually as the sun was setting I wandered out to the stables. I stared up at the sky for what seemed like ages before he appeared.

As they descended I instinctively took a step back, and my heart began to race. Who knew how _big _dragons could get?

Murtagh's POV

_I like her, _thought Thorn as we approached Rebecca.

_You scare her. _

_I know. It feels nice to be appreciated, shown proper respect. You know. _

I rolled my eyes.

We landed gently before her, and Thorn instantly began to show off, setting fire to a few nearby trees and thrashing his tail around.

_If you don't stop that right now, then – _

_Fine. What point is there in even thinking about arguing with the great and mighty dragon rider? _I heard the sarcasm in his thoughts.

I rolled my eyes once more and jumped off of him, landing in front of Rebecca. "You don't have to be scared," I whispered. "He's really just a big, annoying, sarcastic, overgrown lizard."

She nodded, and I didn't have to dip into her mind to know that she didn't believe me.

"So," I said, attempting to change the subject. "I'm sorry I'm late. I'm actually lucky that I'm back now, I was almost gone for days."

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you. Top secret."

"Oh." She nodded, then slowly took a step toward Thorn. "Hi," she squeaked.

_Greetings._

She jumped a foot in the air. "It – it – it – it talks! Only it wasn't talking, it was...thinking and I heard it!"

I laughed. "That's how dragons communicate," I explained. "You can hear his thoughts, and he can hear yours. You should feel lucky, he normally doesn't talk to people other than myself and Galbatorix."

She nodded again, then took another step toward Thorn. "Can I touch him?"

"Be my guest."

She reached out a hand, then stopped it inches away from his scales. "Are you sure?"

_Hold still._

_Fine._

I came and stood behind her, and took her hand in my own. "He'll be good." Gently, I reached out to him, her hand in mine, and brushed her fingertips against his scales. She drew back quickly.

"He feels...warm," she said.

"It's the fire within him." I withdrew my hand.

She reached out and touched him again, stroking his ruby scales gently. "He's a beautiful dragon," she said. "So strong and such a deep red. He's absolutely incredible."

Thorn purred under her gentle touch. _She seems to know a thing or two about dragons. I like this girl a lot. _He suddenly took off and began performing tricks in the air, spinning and diving and whatnot.

_Show off. _

_What? I'm merely educating her further in the field of dragonology._

_Dragonology?_

_Certainly_

_You made that up. _

_So? _He landed right in front of her.

"Wow," was all she could manage, her eyes wide. "What a remarkable dragon."

"Right then," I said. "I've got a surprise for you."

"What?" 

"I'm taking you flying."

She looked up at the sky and gulped before looking back down at me. "Now?" I nodded. "But it's getting late, maybe we should go...um...tomorrow?"

"Thorn's good at flying in the dark, he's got great night vision."

"Yes, but..." she looked uncertain.

"But nothing," I said. "It's fun, I know you'll love it."

She took a step toward Thorn. "And it's perfectly safe?"

I came forward and scooped her up, then hopped onto Thorn's back. "Yep." _Not too high. _

_Of course._

We were of the ground before she could protest. For a moment she screamed, then her scream turned to laughter. "This is amazing!" She clung to a spike on his back, turning in every direction, trying to see everything at once. "You do this every day?" she asked, yelling over the wind whooshing past us.

"Sometimes twice," I called back.

She laughed and let go of the spike, raising her hands in the air. "It's just like flying!"

"It _is_ flying," I replied. "You're going to fall." I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her tightly against me.

"No I'm not," she insisted, though she lowered her arms and leaned back against my chest with a sigh.

We flew for what felt like ages and seconds at the same time. It felt good, miles above our worries, together again, for the first time since I had left almost truly happy.

Eventually Du Weldenvarden came in sight. I let Thorn continue flying however he wanted, I didn't feel like issuing commands or turning back quite yet.

I couldn't tell if Rebecca was asleep or not, but her breathing was slow and deep, and she felt warm in my arms.

_I'm landing, _panted Thorn while we flew above the forest. _I'm tired. We've been flying for a really long time. You have no idea how thirsty I am right now._

_If you must. _

He gently dove down and landed on the shores of a small lake. Rebecca stirred. "What-?"

"Shhh..." I whispered in her ear. "You don't mind if we stop, do you?"

"No." She sat up and stretched. "How long was I asleep?"

"I'm not sure. Awhile."

She nodded, then surveyed her surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Du Welden-"

We were then unceremoniously thrown off of Thorn's back, and he proceeded to dive into the lake and started guzzling it loudly.

"Are you alright?" I asked, standing up and looking at her.

"Couldn't be better," she replied, pulling twigs out of her hair. I helped her up off the ground. "Incredible," she whispered, gazing out at the moonlit lake. Every individual star in the sky was reflected in the smooth, glassy surface of the lake. "It's beautiful."

"Yes." I walked a couple steps, then sat down on the sandy shore. She came and sat beside me, removing her shoes as she did so.

"It's like there are two skies," she said. I nodded, and she leaned her head against my shoulder as she let out a little sigh.

It was silent except for the sound of Thorn slurping up the lake.

_Do you mind? _I asked, annoyed.

_I'm thirsty. _

_There's more than just one lake around here._

_Oh, I get it. You want to be alone with the girl. _

_No, I just want some peace and quiet. _

_Liar. I'll be back in and hour or so. See you then. _

I rolled my eyes and he flew away, leaving us sitting together on the shores of the lake. The wind blew, sending a shiver up my spine. Rebecca scooted closer to me.

Thorn was right. I had wanted us to be alone. I put my arm around her shoulder for a while, and we sat in silence. Then I let go and pulled away from her.

She sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Rebecca, I...we need to talk."

**Yeah, that's a stupid place to end it...but whatever. **

**So what do you think? Is it okay? **

**And allow me to apologize for taking forever to update. I recently made the school play, so I've got swimming, the play, homework, and volleyball to worry about. This story isn't really at the top of my list of things to do, and I really don't have any free time. So updates might take a while. **

**Review! **


	8. Lucy the Dwarf Hamster

**A/N: I'm back. Yay! Sorry it's taking longer and longer to post, but...yeah, I won't bore you with the particulars of my life. So on with the show!**

**Oh yes, and the chapter is named after my hamster. **

Murtagh's POV

Her expressions as unreadable, and it was difficult to refrain from reading her thoughts. "I see," she said slowly after a moment. "We need to talk." She looked up at me, her eyes met mine. "So talk."

"I...what will you do if Anna dies?" It wasn't the best way to start a conversation, but I needed to know.

She inhaled sharply. "W-what?"

"Please." I reached out, closing the gap between us, and took her hand in my own. "Rebecca, you must tell me."

She pulled her hand away quickly and looked away from me. She hugged her knees to her chest and shook her head. "I don't know," she choked. "I don't know." She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, but the tears still leaked out. "I know that she probably is dead already, but until I see the body I can still hope. I hope she made it to safety, I hope she escapes and lives happily ever after, but..." she trailed off.

"The soldiers will arrive in Furnost tomorrow. Then I suppose we shall see."

She nodded, and then wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "What else?"

"Becca," I whispered. "What did I do to you?"

"You've seen the memories. You know what you did."

"I still what to hear it from you."

"Why?" she asked, turning to look at me once more. "What will that solve? Nothing. How can't that possibly help? It won't. All it can do is cause more pain." She was crying again, but she didn't look away. I didn't either. I couldn't.

"When will it end? When can I be happy again? When will it all work out? When will this pain that's been with me for years finally stop?" She turned away now, and buried her face in her arms as she sobbed.

"Shhh. Don't cry," I whispered. "Angels shouldn't cry."

"I'm no angel." She shook her head. "Sorry. What else did you...did you want to say?"

"Well, we..." I struggled to find the right words. "We sort of rushed things, didn't we? We were young, and it wasn't...right. Not to say, that I regret anything, no, of course I don't. The only thing I regret is that I left you. I shouldn't have. I just wish we had done things...properly." I cringed.

"Properly? If we had done anything properly we wouldn't have ever met each other in the first place."

"No, not like that. I just..." My face turned red. I hadn't blushed in years. "I wish I had married you."

She looked even more surprised than I had expected her to look. "Married...? Why?" she asked with wide eyes.

"It's...it's stupid, but I want to know you'll be mine forever, mine and only mine. It would have made it more official, more tangible, in a way. And it might have made me stay, or at least take you with me. I would have been a better man, a better husband, a better father." She didn't respond. I picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the water's glassy surface. "I know this sounds strange, and cliché, but I want us...I want us to start over."

"Start over." She repeated. "In what way?"

"Just as far as the...romantic aspects of our relationship. I got you your own room. It's down by the kitchens, I assumed you still liked to cook."

"I do."

Silence.

I inwardly cursed myself. I had completely messed up what I had wanted to say; it had come out all wrong.

Rebecca's POV

I didn't know what I was feeling. Partially, I suppose, I felt joy. He wanted me forever. For eternity. There was something reassuring about that. It made me feel like he would never leave again.

Of course, there was also the pain, a constant reminder of the reality of my life. I couldn't be worrying about this now. I had to worry about my baby, my Anna.

I realized I had lied. I did know what would happen if I found out she was dead. His idea of starting over wouldn't work. I would need him then, more than I had never needed him ever before. To hold me, to comfort me, to love me, to be loved. To give me a reason worth living. Either I'd need a new reason to keep breathing or I'd stop entirely.

But...suppose she lived. Then, perhaps the pain wouldn't stop completely, but...it might lessen. His idea of starting over, of making it right, would suddenly work, would be a dream come true.

When I was little I had always heard tales of happily-ever-afters. Perhaps I would get one. There was nothing wrong with hope, was there?

Thorn flew down. "We've got to go," said Murtagh, after a moment of silent conversation with his dragon. "It's getting late."

I looked up at the sky. "No, it's getting early."

The ride back was completely different from the ride there. It was awkward, and we were both exhausted, and had a lot on our minds. At last we landed.

"Let me show you to your room," said Murtagh as we dismounted. He led me back into the castle, through brightly lit hallways very different from the usual twisting dark passages. We stopped in front of a small wooden door. He pulled out a ring that held keys.

"I had two made for you," he said, handing them both over. I pushed one in the lock and turned it. The door opened with a little click.

The room was perfect. It was small, and cozy, with a little wardrobe in one corner, a small bed with blue covers and pillows in the next, and a bookshelf covering one of the walls. "This is all mine?" I asked quietly, walking over to the opposite wall and fingering the books. Murtagh nodded. I picked up an old blue book and opened it.

I hadn't read in a while, and at first all I saw was a jumble of strange symbols and letters mixed together. I shook my head and concentrated on the first word. T and H together made a _th _sound. Th... thi...this. This. I went to the next word. B made a _bu _sound. Bu...oo...k...book. I continued to sound out the rest of the individual words before trying to string them together. The first line must have been the longest sentence I'd ever read. _This book is a history of Alagaesia, including a brief summery of the history of the elves and dwarves in this land, along with some information on the legendary dragon riders, and a list of past kings and queens and other rulers of this amazing land. _

"Lovely," I said, putting the book back on the shelf. I had a feeling I'd be reading a lot lately if I wanted to get any better.

I turned back to Murtagh. "Thank you so much," I whispered. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

He smiled, a sad, but beautiful smile. "I should be going. You should get to bed too. It's late."

I walked him to the door. "Bye," I whispered. I leaned forward for a kiss, but he pulled away. "What?"

He put two fingers to my lips. "Starting over," he reminded me gently. He kissed my forehead and then turned and disappeared down the hallway.

I stood in the doorway for a while, then went back into my room and went to bed.

**So...how was it? What do you think? Hmmmm...I'm not so sure about this one. I think it kind of sucks, but that doesn't matter if you like it, I guess. **

**REVIEW! (please?) **


	9. My reviewers rock!

**A/N: Awww...I love my reviewers! Thanks to those of you who do review. This chapter is named after you guys! **

**Oh yes. I screwed up when writing this. In my first chapter, Rebecca reads Anna a story. Then later I'm saying she can hardly read at all. So sorry. Let's just say...Rebecca had attempted to keep her ability to read, but Anna's storybooks were really all she had, and she basically knew them by heart, so she could read a couple stories or two. But nothing else. Yes, it's a lame excuse, and if you come up with a better one then I would only be all too happy to change it. It is understandable if you all want to rant and rave and whatnot about my pathetic writing skills, but it would be nice if you didn't flood my inbox with hate mail. **

**Thank you. **

Rebecca's POV

I awoke early and immediately reached over to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. Of course it was empty, I was all alone.

This was strange. For the past few years I'd always woken up with somebody else. Whether it be Murtagh, or Anna, who always preferred to cuddle up next to me in my bed than go lie down in hers.

I rolled out of bed, and tiptoed across the room to a door that led into a small washroom. I washed my face and brushed my hair, then got dressed for today. It only took me about four or five minutes total, I wasn't too concerned about my appearance for today. I was too worried.

Murtagh had said the soldiers would be arriving in Furnost today. I might now what had happened to Anna by tomorrow. Maybe even tonight.

I ignored my rumbling stomach and instead cleaned the room – though there wasn't that much to clean, as I had only been here a matter of hours. I walked over to the bookshelf, and pulled out a thin book with an emerald cover made of a soft fabric over hard wood. There was no title. Curious, I flipped it open to the first page.

O made and "ah" sound, right? Ah...ahn...ahnc...ahnc? O – N – C...E. Ahnkeh? Maybe it was a different language.

No, the C and E together would have made an "s" sound. Ahns. What other sounds could and O make? Oons. Ohns. Once. Once...once u-up...on. Once up-on. Once upon a t..imeh. No, time. _Once upon a time_.

I sat down on my bed and spent the rest of the morning struggling through the rest of the story. I worked so hard on just the individual words, that it was difficult to understand what the whole story was about, though I could sort of string sentences together.

Around noon I heard a gentle tap on my door. I slammed the book shut, frustrated with it, and went to answer.

It was Murtagh, of course, but he looked different. He was wearing armor, and a sword hung from his waist. He had a helmet tucked under an arm.

"Rebecca." He inclined his head.

"Hi. Come in." I stood aside to give him room to walk through the door, but he shook his head.

"I don't have the time."

"Oh." I stared at him stupidly.

"Becca, I'm...I've got to go."

"Where?"

"A lot of places. I can't tell you. But I'll send news as soon as I can."

"When will you be back?"

"Not for a while. A couple months."

I couldn't reply. A couple months? It might as well be forever. I knew he would return, of course he would return, but there was always that feeling. That fear. That question constantly at the back of my mind – "What if I never see him again?" I just nodded.

"I wish I could take you with me." He seems bitter, almost angry now. "It's so frustrating, being under constant control and supervision, not...not being free." He pounded his fist against the wall.

I stepped forward. "Hey," I said. "Don't talk like that. Shhh..." I embraced him, though it was not particularly comfortable, with his armor on. "Murtagh," I whispered. "Murtagh, life is hard. Life is difficult. But if you look hard enough it is worth living. There is something here on this horrible, unfriendly, frustrating earth that keeps you going, keeps you breathing, gives you strength when you are too tired to go on and want to just give up."

"Life is worth living," he repeated. He pulled out of my embrace, and me arms dropped back down to my side. He took my shoulders and held me at arms length, gently, looking afraid that he was going to break me. "I know that. I just wish you did."

"I do!" I insisted. "I...I..." Did I? Yes, he was worth living for, Anna was worth living for, but...but did I still want to live, even with them? Did my speech to him make me a hypocrite? "I don't know," I said finally.

"Yes you do. Think about it."

"Master Murtagh!" A slave boy ran into the hallway. "We – we've been all over the castle looking for you!" he panted. "The King needs a word, he...he's not in a very good mood."

"Thank you." Murtagh looked at me seriously once more. "Think about it," he repeated. "I love you." He released me and turned to follow the slave boy. I stood still.

Then he was gone.

**Awwww...poor Rebecca. Galbatorix is such a jerk! Murtagh! No! Come back! So sad...**

**So...reviews? Please? I need to know how this was. I know it's short, but I'm starting the next one right now. Wow...I just went back and re-read it and it is short. Next one should be longer. Notice the use of the word should, not will. Hm. **

**Bye! **


	10. NYC

**A/N: Okay, here is chapter 10. It is much longer, as promised, and named after one of my favorite places in the world. Enjoy! **

**So basically, after Murtagh leaves Rebecca is pretty lonely and has way too much free time on her hands, so the next two or three chapters will have lots of flashbacks. **

Having Murtagh gone gave me far too much time to think. Mostly about the past, however painful it may be.

**Flashback**

I leaned over the chamber pot for a moment more. I groaned a little, and wished for the thousandth time Murtagh was here. He would pull my hair out of my face, rub my back, speak sweet, caring, reassuring words.

Maybe it was time to see a healer. I had gotten sick, mainly in the morning, for the past few weeks. I had had mood swings, my appetite was completely messed up, I had missed my menstruation the past three or four times it should have come, and –

Oh. When I thought about it like that, it added up in a different way. I leaned over the pot and threw up some more.

"Rebecca!" It was Alyssa, another maid. She was about my age, and more or less my friend, though she loved gossip a bit too much. "You look awful! Are you alright?"

"No." I threw up again.

"Would you like me to get someone for you? Your mother? A healer?"

"No!" I looked up at her wildly. "No healers!" A healer would guess my condition in a heartbeat.

"Um…alright then." She stood awkwardly beside me for a moment. "Do you want to talk?"

"Yes, I – I think I'm finished." I set the pot on the ground. Normally I would clean it up, but right now wasn't normally. "Let's go for a walk." We left the castle and began to wander around the surrounding fields.

"You remember Murtagh?" I asked.

She looked startled. Ever since the moment he had left, I had refused to talk about him, and immediately destroyed (physically, mentally, and emotionally) anyone who dared talk about him within earshot. "Y – yes," she stuttered.

"Well, I'm…he…we…" I couldn't say it. And yet I had to. Someone else had to know, I needed to tell. I wasn't good with secrets. When I had to keep something a secret, someone else had to know. I wasn't capable of being mysterious and secretive; I had to tell another person before I burst. Especially with something as big as this.

"You…" she prompted.

"I'm pregnant."

She gasped. "What?" She sounded shocked, but there was something else in her voice. She didn't tell secrets because she had to, like me, but because she wanted to. Rumors to her were like bread and water to anyone else.

"You heard me. I'm pregnant. It's Murtagh's."

"Rebecca, I – I don't know what to say." Though she did know what she _wanted_ to say, that much was clear.

I nodded. I was beginning to feel sick again. Telling Alyssa was a bad idea. We continued our walk in silence, and she kept giving me funny looks. We split up when we got back to the castle. She ran off, obviously to tell one of her little friends the latest gossip.

I stomped around the castle for the rest of the day, cursing Murtagh under my breath, words no even remotely proper lady should know. Everyone who came into contact with me was quickly reduced to a puddle of tears. Eventually I found that I wasn't running into anyone anymore, word must have spread about my current mood.

I couldn't believe it. He had…he had gotten me pregnant. Pregnant. A baby. When we…well, we hadn't thought about how it could have resulted in bringing a child into this world. A child. A human being. A person, a real live little girl or boy. We were so stupid! That…that…I couldn't think of a bad enough word. How could he be so irresponsible? How could _I _be so irresponsible? We had known it was possible, I suppose, but we hadn't ever thought…

I walked slowly back to my house, trying to hold back tears.

"Becca?" asked Spencer. "What's wrong?" Leave it to him to guess something was wrong with me the moment I walked in through the door.

"There's something wrong?" asked my mother, poking her head out of a different room.

"No, mother," I lied. "I'm perfectly fine."

Spencer stared at me.

"Oh. Well, good then." My mother returned to whatever she had been doing.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered to Spencer. "Outside. Somewhere not here. I don't want mother to overhear us."

"Alright."

"I'm going for a walk with Spencer, ma," I called.

"Be back before dark!"

We left. I wanted to take him out into the fields where I had told Alyssa. Their vast emptiness had always somehow been a comfort to me. Though I really shouldn't have told Alyssa, she wasn't trustworthy. She'd probably told all the other servants already.

On the way we passed by two other serving girls, Megan and Emily. They began whispering fiercely to each other the moment they saw me. I tried to ignore them.

"Feeling alright, Rebecca?" asked Megan, her voice coated with fake sweetness.

"Fine, thanks." I flashed her a dazzling, completely fake smile. Megan laughed and returned to whispering with Emily. We kept walking.

"Rebecca." Spencer stopped and suddenly stepped in front of me, looking into my eyes seriously. "What's going on? What was that about?"

"I – I – I –" I cursed myself for telling Alyssa before him. "I – Murtagh – we –" I took a deep breath.

"Murtagh?" he asked. I know he hadn't ever really liked him, especially after he had left me. His eyes narrowed.

"Before he left…Murtagh…got me pregnant."

His eyes narrowed further. "He did?"

I nodded.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I'm probably about three or four months along."

"Three..." he choked. I nodded. He closed his eyes.

"He is going to pay."

"What?"

"He got my little sister pregnant. I'll kill him for it!"

"Don't talk like that."

"How can you defend him?"

"I love him!"

"You love him? How can you love that monster, after he got you pregnant and then just left? He got what he wanted from you and then he was gone."

"Don's say that! Murtagh loved me too. I know he did. I don't know why he left, but that wasn't it!" Maybe.

"You're fifteen, Becca. What can you possibly know about love? He's a seventeen year old boy, he doesn't understand love yet, he's an idiot, he doesn't care about how you feel, what happens to you, so long as he gets-"

"Stop it!" I realized my face was wet. I wondered how long I had been crying. "Stop! Just leave him alone!"

"You're right," he murmured softly after a moment of silence broken only by my tears. "Becca, I'm sorry. That was unkind. It wasn't necessarily untrue, but it wasn't nice."

I sniffled. "Let's just go home."

When we got there all my family – my father, my mother, and my other two brothers were sitting around the table in the front room looking solemn. They all looked up and stared at me when I walked in.

"What?" I asked. "I know it's late, and I'm sorry, but we were…really enjoying our walk."

"You are pregnant," said my father. His face was red; he looked as though it was all he could do not to lose his temper.

I gaped at him. "How-?"

"You're friend Alyssa came by." This from my mother. "She told us."

"And with that foolish boy Murtagh, of all people. I knew it was possible you two were…romantically involved, but I did not expect this! I thought you were better than that, Rebecca." My father went from red to purple. "Get out!" he suddenly yelled.

"What?" asked Spencer. "Father, that isn't fair!"

"Get out of my house!" he stood, ignoring the protests of all three of my brothers and my mother's quiet tears. "We clothed you, we fed you, we cared for you. I thought we had raised you properly, we did our best! And now…now this…get out!"

"Father," I begged. "Father, no, I'm sorry, I-"

He slapped me across the face. My cheek stung. "You are no daughter of mine! Get out!" I collapsed, sobbing. He kicked me. "Out!" He grabbed my hair and dragged me into the street.

"Stop!" yelled Spencer. "Stop it! She's just a child – leave her alone!"

My father rounded on him. "You stay out of this, boy," he spat. "You get back in the house right now. All of you!" He must have looked truly terrifying, as my brothers all silently went in, though they glared at him, poison in their eyes.

"And as for you, you foolish little slattern-"

"Father, please, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, forgive me!" I wailed. "Please! Have mercy; remember I'm your girl! I'm your little girl, your little Rebecca, your only daughter-"

He slapped me again. "No you aren't! I disown you; you cannot possibly be that innocent little girl I used to love. She is dead. Gone, you understand!?"

"Father, father-" He turned and went back inside, slamming the door behind him. I lay in the dark street alone, sobbing as it began to rain.

**End of Flashback**

That day was awful. I had never seen my brothers or parents again, except for once. Spencer had managed to track me down, once before they went to war. "I'm sorry," he said. "I miss you. I should have stood up for you." He played with Anna for a while, with such love in his eyes that I had to forgive him. The next I heard of him was just a brief letter from an old friend of his, telling me that all my brothers had died.

I shook my head. No, I had to think positively. I had to try. I had to find a reason to live.

The days before he had left were happier.

**Flashback **

I swept out the last bit of dust from the stable. There was no point in cleaning them, really; they would just get messier the moment the stable master and older boys came back from their lesson.

I sat down on the bench for a moment, exhausted, and sure enough, when they all rode back in, the previously sparkling stables were almost completely destroyed.

They dismounted, talking and laughing, almost completely ignoring me. One named Brian detached himself from the group for a second, and came to sit beside me. "Hello Rebecca," he said.

"Brian." I didn't really like him.

"How are you?"

"Fine." I scooted away from him a bit.

He closed the distance between us. "You know, our master says I'm the best rider in our group," he bragged, running his fingers through his hair.

"Good for you." I tried to look through the group of boys for Murtagh.

"Indeed. I could teach you sometime, if you'd like." Of course he didn't know I'd been an expert at riding horses ever since Spencer had taught me at the age of five. "It's really not too hard. If you're scared, I could take you out a few times before teaching you." Oh yes. He'd love that, cuddling up to me on a horse miles away from civilization.

"Thank you for the offer, but-"

"You look really pretty today." He reached out and touched me face for a moment, then curled a lock of brown curly hair behind my ear. His hand moved down to cover my own. I instinctively pulled it away, and my hair fell back into my face.

He laughed softly, a low, cold laugh that scared me. "Someday." He smiled at me before disappearing out the stable doors to where the other boys were calling him.

"I don't like him," said a familiar voice from behind me. I turned.

"Murtagh!" I flung myself at him, embracing him tightly. It was almost pathetic how happy I was to see him.

He laughed. "I missed you too." He hugged me back, then pulled away. He stood. "Come." He held out a hand. I took it eagerly, and he led me out the back way, into the surrounding fields, careful not to let anyone see us.

So how were things while I was gone?"

"Boring." I stuck out my tongue. He laughed again.

"Life is never exciting enough for you, Becca."

"It was, though. I had to clean out the stables, though there's really no point in doing so, and then I had to clean them out again because the Duke of something-or-another rode his pretty white and extremely destructive horse right through them. Is it really too much trouble to just go around?"

"Ah, well, he is the Duke," he said sarcastically. "And so far above us mortals."

I rolled my eyes.

We walked far out into one of the fields, then I sat down, releasing his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I've been cleaning out the stables all day while you've just been sitting on your butt riding around and enjoying the scenery. I think I deserve a break."

"Fine." He stretched out on the ground beside me, staring up at the sky. "It's pretty," he commented lazily.

I lay down beside him, reaching for his hand again. "It is," I agreed. He turned his head and smiled at me. "So how was your lesson?" I asked.

The smile faded. "Brian is really getting on my nerves."

"He gets on everyone's nerves."

"Yes, but…he tries so hard to make me angry. He has to be better; he has to turn everything into a competition."

"He's competitive. So what?" I didn't point out that Murtagh was as competitive as he was, if not more so.

"There are some things I don't want to have to compete for."

"Such as?"

"You, of course."

I rolled my eyes. "You're worried about me and Brian?"

"In a way. I think he knows about us."

"Oh, so he can only like me to annoy you?" I asked, feigning outrage. "I suppose it has nothing to do with my incredibly good looks and cleaning skills?" 

He smiled. "Becca." He leaned forward and captured my mouth with his own. It felt soft and warm. "I just wish he'd understand."

I leaned in for another kiss. "Understand what?"

"That there are some things he can't take."

"True." I rolled on top of him, and kissed the tip of his nose. "I will always be yours."

"Mine," he whispered. He kissed the base of my throat, and along my neck.

"Murtagh."

"Hm?" he asked, his lips at the corner of my mouth.

"Behave yourself. Don't you want to prove to your instructors what a gentleman you are?" I teased.

"Not particularly." One of his hands slid down my back, pressing me to him. I held his head between my hands, pulling myself to him, too tightly and not tightly enough. The tip of my tongue traced the curve of his lower lip.

"Mine," he whispered once more.

Eventually, I was the one who had to come up for air. I gulped it in, breathing heavily. His lips simply moved to the rest of my face and neck. It was as though he didn't need to breathe.

Several minutes later I rolled off and back to his side. He looked confused.

"Did I do something?" he asked, concerned.

"What? No, of course not, it's just…it's nothing," I lied, staring up at the sky.

"You can tell me," he said, leaning closer. I felt his lips against my ear. I shivered involuntarily, even though it was a warm, sunny day. "You can tell me anything, Becca."

"It's stupid. You wouldn't want to know." I could still hear and feel his breath in my ear.

"Of course I do."

"You really don't." My face was on fire. He was going to make me tell him. He was going to win. Again.

"Please?" he asked softly, coming even closer, one of his hands wrapping around my waist. "Please tell me?"

This wasn't fair. He knew I couldn't resist him. "Do you love me?" I blurted out. I wished I hadn't asked. It was stupid. I turned my head away.

"Rebecca."

"I'm sorry. It's stupid, I – you don't have to say anything."

He took the hand wrapped around my waist and used it to grab my chin and turn my face toward him. "Of course I love you. I always have. I always will."

I barely had time to catch my breath before his lips were on mine again. He loved me. He loved me, he loved me, he loved me. I felt like bursting into song, or leaping for joy, or something, anything, to express how I felt at that exact moment.

He loved me.

**End of Flashback**

And he loved me now. I loved him. Love was worth living for, wasn't it? It had to be. Right?

I shook my head. I had spent the remainder of the day wandering around the castle, thinking. I had eaten once, but I couldn't remember when. I was too tired to notice if I was still hungry.

I prepared for bed, and was asleep almost the moment my head touched the pillow.

**Yay! That was about 9 pages. Be proud. **

**So was it good? You get one happy memory, one not-so-happy one. I'm not great when it comes to writing fluff and whatnot and so I'm not so sure, but…whatever. I'm hoping that having Brian like her doesn't make her a Mary Sue. He only likes her because he knows Murtagh does, so maybe it's not that bad. I dunno. **

**And I know that I've just posted 2 chapters, but please review this one before reading the other, reviews are really helpful. **


	11. Shakespeare

**A/N: Yay! New chappie! This one's named after my favorite playwright. **

Rebecca's POV

I dreamed of him that night. I dreamed Anna was alive, that we were happy together. I was forced to open my eyes to reality all too soon.

After getting dressed, I walked to the kitchens and brought a loaf of bread and some jam back to my room with me. I was going to drive myself crazy with all this free time I had to remember.

**Flashback**

Murtagh and I sat against the walls of an old, mostly deserted hallway, facing each other, with our legs stretched out almost all the way to the other side.

"I wish it weren't raining," I sighed.

"You aren't the only one."

"Of all the days for it could have rained, it had to be today." I leaned my head back against the wall. Stupid storm.

"I'm sorry, Becca," said Murtagh. "But happy birthday." 

"Thanks." I folded my arms and sighed again, staring at my feet.

"Stop!" he said a moment later.

I looked up at him. "What?"

"Stop going on like that. It's your birthday. We should be happy. You especially." He crawled across the little hallway to sit besides me. "Now then. I wasn't sure what you wanted, so just tell me and it's yours."

"I don't want you to get me anything." I blushed.

"But_ I _want to get you something. Please?"

"I don't want anything, though. I already have everything I want or need." And I felt slightly guilty about him getting me something, too. I wasn't very good at accepting gifts. The dress my mother had made me (that I happened to be wearing) was more than enough, and it didn't even fit. The sleeves were too long, and the neckline was far too low. I had to readjust it every couple of minutes, it made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Becca, don't be difficult." He stood, then pulled me to my feet as well. "Please?"

"I told you, I don't-" He took a step forward. His sudden closeness surprised me, and I backed up.

"There has to be something." He took another step forward, and placed one hand on either side of my head, pinning me to the wall.

"N-no," I stuttered.

He touched his warm lips to the base of my throat. "Rebecca."

"I – I don't-" His nose drew a line up the skin of my throat to the point of my chin. I could feel his breath on my neck. I closed my eyes.

"Come now, there must be something," he whispered against my jaw.

"I don't want any presents."

"Your mother gave you this dress." He lifted his face to kiss my eyelids.

"That's different."

"How so?" I could feel his smile against my cheek.

"It – uh – it doesn't fit."

He removed one hand from the wall and ran a finger mischievously along the too-low neckline where my skin met the fabric. "I think it suits you fine."

"I still don't – don't want anything from you."

He took his hand and instead of putting it back against the wall placed it at the nape of my neck, pulling us closer together. "Please?" He kissed slowly down my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth. "Tell me. What do you want more than anything else in the world?" His mouth barely brushed against my trembling lower lip.

"You," I gasped, without hesitating.

He pulled back a little. "Me? But you already have-" He stopped, then smiled. "Me," he repeated. "Alright then."

He took my face in his hands almost roughly, and kissed me, his unyielding lips moving against mine. My heart was beating swiftly, so loudly I was sure he could hear it. One of my hands reached up and traced the perfect features of his face.

He pulled away from my lips for a moment, leaving me gasping for air. His lips traced along my jaw line. I shuddered, then reached with the hand I had been tracing his face with and took one of his hands. I twisted my head slightly to kiss his palm, then the inside of his wrist.

He took that hand out of my grasp and gently rubbed it along my shoulder and neck. He pulled the sleeve down gently, uncovering my shoulder. His lips moved quickly to the exposed skin. I felt dizzy; I wondered briefly if I had forgotten to breathe.

He kissed every bit of available skin, and finally his lips met mine again.

"Come," he whispered, pulling back.

"What?" I asked. The world was still spinning.

"Come." He took my hand and led me quickly through the castle, trying to avoid anyone else who may have been randomly wandering the corridors. 

"Where-?" I started.

He stopped, turned to me, and put a finger to my lips. "Shhh." He leaned down and kissed me briefly on the forehead.

I followed him through the rest of the castle to the door of his bedroom. He leaned down and kissed me passionately once more before we went inside, and he locked the door behind us.

---

I could hear the rain tapping gently on the roof and walls of the castle when I woke. I stretched and rolled over. It took me a moment to realize that in my own bed at home I would have fallen off when I rolled, it was much smaller than this one. And I was far too comfortable and warm.

I rolled back over, trying to figure out where I was.

"I'm sorry," he murmured so softly I almost didn't hear him. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Memories of last night came rushing back. I smiled. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till finally I found his mouth.

Murtagh kissed me softly for a moment, then laughed quietly. "I was afraid you'd be scared, or angry, or hurt. That maybe I had taken advantage of you last night. That maybe it wasn't…fair, or right, or-"

"Of course not." I kissed him again.

"Good," he whispered against my lips. His arms held me tighter, pulling me even closer to him. His skin felt warm against mine.

One of his hands curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg. He paused for a moment, his hand curling around my thigh. Then he pulled my leg up, hitching it around his hip.

I stopped breathing. Despite the cold of the rest of the room, I felt suddenly hot. His lips brushed against the base of my throat. "I love you, Rebecca."

Before I could pull myself together enough to reply, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his lips and tongue could reach my throat. My breathing was so loud it was almost embarrassing, but I didn't care quite enough to be ashamed.

"So, you're happy right now, then?" he asked.

"I – I'm always happy when I'm with you," I managed to gasp.

"Sore at all?" he teased. He hadn't been exactly gentle with me last night, and he knew it. I felt his lips against my ear. I shivered.

"A little, but I'll – I'll live."

He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his own. Slowly, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel his hard body pressing against my own softer one. My heart was hammering so loudly that that it was hard to hear him speak.

"I love you," he whispered again. His tongue traced the shape of my lips.

I let out a little sigh, and closed my eyes. He pulled away for a moment, then brought his lips back down to mine.

"Master Murtagh! Are you there?" Someone was banging on the door.

He looked up toward it, surprised, and slightly annoyed. "Yes."

"Tornac needs to speak with you. He says it's important."

"He does?"

"Yes. Er, should I come in, or will that be all?"

"You may go. Thank you." We heard footsteps die away in the hallway.

Murtagh groaned a little, then rolled off. "I should be going."

"Now?" I asked.

"Most likely. Tornac isn't a very patient man." He sat up in the bed, then slid out and pulled on some of his clothes. He began to hunt around the room for the rest of them.

I sat up as well, pulling the blanket up with me so it covered everything below my shoulders. "When will you be back?"

"I'm not sure. Do you need to be anywhere?"

"Not really."

"Alright then." He got down on the ground and looked under the bed. "Have you seen my shirt?"

I shook my head.

He cursed briefly and stood. He turned to me. "You can go back to sleep now, if you want."

I shook my head again. "No, I'm awake." I climbed out of bed, the blanket still wrapped around me, and began the hunt for my own clothes as well. He watched me, a small smile on his face.

"Here's your shirt," I said, finding it under a chair. I threw it at him. He put it on. "Do you mind?" I asked once I had found all my clothes.

"What?"

"Turn around."

"What? Becca, there's nothing I haven't seen, after last-"

"I know. Turn around anyway."

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

"There," I said after I was dressed. I walked over to him. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" I teased.

He took my face between his hands, and leaned forward to kiss me.

"Murtagh!" The messenger was outside the door again.

He stopped, inches from my face. "What is it now?"

"Tornac had something come up, and he says he'll meet you in an hour, down at the training fields, rain or shine."

"Alright." He rolled his eyes.

"An hour isn't that soon." I stood on tiptoe to reach up and kiss him. He sighed. "I should be getting ready for…for nothing really, I guess. For the day," I whispered. I turned to search the room for a brush.

He came up from behind and swept me off my feet.

"What are you doing?"

"Come here." He sat me down on the bed.

"Murtagh, he said Tornac was meeting you in just an hour, do you really think-"

"Shhh. I know. It's not that. Just…let me brush your hair for you."

"What?" I had always felt safe when I was with him, but suddenly felt a little panicked.

"It'll be fine. I want to try something. Hand me the brush in the drawer of that nightstand." He sat behind me.

Cautiously, I handed it over. "There's really nothing to worry about, Becca."

"We'll see."

He was gentle, running it through my hair slowly and carefully. It felt good. I had always loved having my hair done when I was younger, but as I grew I started just brushing it out myself. I closed my eyes. "That feels nice…"

"See?"

"Fine. You were right and I was wrong. For once." He laughed and continued brushing my hair. 

"What do you think Tornac wants?"

"Besides to ruin my life? I don't know."

"I'm serious."

He put the brush down and ran his fingers gently through my hair. "He might send me away for a while," he admitted. "He's made sure I've been trained well. He might test me, see how well I can control troops, travel, etc."

"What?" I turned back to look at him.

"It's possible. Turn you're head, I'm not finished." I turned back. He began braiding my curly, normally impossible to manage hair.

"I don't want you to go away," I said childishly.

"Don't worry." He finished braiding it. "Lovely." He kissed the top of my head.

I turned back around to sit on the bed and face him. "Are you sure?"

"Rebecca," he laughed, and leaned forward. "It's alright. I'll be back."

"You'll never leave me, right? I mean, for good?"

"I love you," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against mine. "I will never leave you."

**End of Flashback**

In the end, he had though, hadn't he? Just a month or two after that night, when I got pregnant with Anna. He had broken his promise. He had done a lot to me. He had left me broken, destroyed, with nobody but myself to try to pick up the pieces. Well, nobody but Anna and myself. I expected things to get harder when she was born, and they did, but they also got easier in a way. Life was more bearable.

**Flashback**

At the end of the day, I waited for Murtagh in his room. He walked in slowly, looking tired and slightly ill.

"What's wrong?"

"The King has…he's changed."

"Here, sit down." I walked over to the bed with him and we both sat. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember a month or two ago on my seventeenth birthday, when I met him for the first time? Then, he was charming. He painted a beautiful picture of all of Alagaesia for me, he had me convinced that I wanted to follow him, wherever he went, whatever he did. But now, all he can do is scream and yell and curse."

"About what?"

"The Varden's burned down three bridges in the south. He wants me to take a detachment of troops and destroy Cantos."

"That's horrible!"

"I know." He didn't look at me, he just sat there and stared at his hands.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure." I could tell he was lying.

"You mean, you just don't want to tell me."

He finally looked up at me. "No, of course not Rebecca, I just-"

"It's alright." I smiled halfheartedly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"So…are you feeling any better?"

"A little. I didn't throw up that much this morning."

"Good. Did you eat anything?"

"Yeah, a lot actually."

"Good." We sat in silence for a while, until we heard a knock on the door.

Murtagh stood and walked quickly across the room to answer it. He opened it just a crack. He and the person outside the room whispered for a moment, then he nodded, shut the door, and sat back down next to me.

"What was that about?"

"I can't tell you."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I really can't. I've sworn in the Ancient Language I won't tell a soul."

"Very well then."

"Overall, I guess this hasn't been one of your better birthdays?"

"Not particularly." It was silent again.

This wasn't like Murtagh. Not at all. He was always so full of energy, so passionate, so…so talkative and mischievous. I reached out slowly, and gently touched his hand. To my surprised, he didn't pull away, but rather squeezed mine back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"I'm a liar."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say.

Someone knocked on the door again, five times, once fast, three slow, the last one fast again. A signal.

"Rebecca," he was urgent now, scared, his eyes wide. "I love you."

I was confused. "I love you t-"

He seized my face between his hands, and kissed me with a hunger not far from violence. His lips were hot and urgent against mine, I didn't know how to respond. So I just sat there, motionless, as he kissed me again…a third time…a fourth….a fifth. His lips and hands were rough against my soft mouth and skin.

He pulled away. "I love you," he repeated, looking me in the eye. I nodded. Then he stood and left the room.

I sat on his bed, alone for a long time, trying to make sense of what had happened. Eventually as the darkness fell over the castle and day turned into night, I heard the clashing of metal on metal and shouts from outside and went to the window to investigate.

In the dim glow of lantern light, I could barely make out two figures fighting against several others. I squinted, trying to get a better look and possibly identify who they were.

No.

Murtagh was one of them, fighting along side a man who had to be Tornac. Grief clawed at me, ripped me into shreds. Tornac fell. I heard Murtagh's scream, and saw him whip his blade around, killing, stabbing, and blocking faster, given strength by his rage and his pain.

I couldn't look away. One soldier fell, and then another. He did not kill them all, but eventually he broke free, riding away from the castle. Away from me.

Tears fell fast and freely. I backed up from the window and collapsed on the bed. He was gone. Forever. I was never going to see him again.

Gone.

**End of Flashback**

He had left. But he had come back. If love was worth living for, was it worth dying for? Was it worth all the grief and pain and hurt? I still didn't know if Murtagh was worth living for. But Anna certainly was.

**Flashback**

"Good girl," said Elsie, the midwife, as she dabbed at my forehead with a wet cloth. She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I'm proud of you."

I was too tired to respond. I just nodded, breathing heavily, and looked up at where the other woman, Rosa, was. She was holding a little bundle she had wrapped up in a white blanket, and was rocking it gently. The bundle was crying.

"You want to see your mama, don't you?" she asked. "Alright. Here you go." She walked across the room and held it out to me.

I suppose I must have looked scared for a minute, because Rosa whispered, "It's alright, don't be frightened. She's a beautiful, healthy little girl."

Slowly, I reached out and took the baby from her hands. I cradled her in my arms. "It's alright," I whispered. "You don't have to cry. You're safe, I've got you. I will never let anything bad happen to you." I laughed a little, tears streaming down my face. "It's a little scary out here, isn't it? It's a big world. But don't worry, I'll keep you safe and happy." I kissed her on the tip of her nose.

She looked like her father. I wished he was here to see that. She had hair, black and curly, and she was pale, though her cheeks were red. Her blue eyes looked exactly like his, like deep, crystal pools of liquid sapphire. I suddenly realized what day it was. She and Murtagh shared the same birthday. He would be eighteen today. If only he were here.

"She's hungry," said Elsie.

I looked up at her. "Um, I'm not really sure how…"

"Well, I'm certainly not!" she laughed. She was right, she was even younger than me.

"I've had six children," said Rosa. "Here." She helped me arrange my baby against my chest.

"She's beautiful," commented Elsie. "She really is."

"Thank you."

"What's her name?"

"I don't...Annabelle." I named her after a beautiful princess in one of the old stories I used to read. The princess had always been lucky and happy and lived happily ever after with her true love. I wished luck and happiness and love upon my little girl. In the story she was also kind, and gentle, and clever. I wished that upon my baby as well. And Murtagh had commented once that he liked the name, though I couldn't remember when or why. I liked it too.

"Annabelle. Beautiful."

Suddenly the tears were falling again. "Look what I brought into this world," I said. "Look at her. She's so beautiful, innocent, pure. I did that."

"Yes you did," said Rosa.

"You were right. It was all worth it in the end." Yes, labor had been long and painful and hard. But now this, this beautiful little girl, had been the result of nine months of waiting and over four hours of pain. "My little girl," I whispered to myself. "My baby. My Annabelle. I'm her mother." Mother. I had never really liked the word, my own mother and I hadn't been best of friends. But now it took on a whole new meaning, it was special, sacred, beautiful.

Anna finished eating and fell asleep. I rocked her and held her close.

"You should get some rest too," said Rosa.

"Yes, you really should. You deserve it."

I looked down at my baby.

"I'll put her in the cradle. There's nothing to worry about, you're tired and sore and you need to sleep. She'll still be here when you wake."

I nodded. "Thank you." I drifted off to my dreams.

**End of Flashback**

Rosa and Elsie had been so kind to me. Eventually I had left, I'd gone to more or less live off the streets with my baby. They sent me with blankets and money, even though I told them I would never be able to repay them. I had slept on the streets for a while, then gotten work at the Inn. They didn't pay me much, but they fed me and gave Anna and I a place to live. So many people in this world had been kind to me. It almost wasn't fair to them for me to think about killing myself.

Elsie had been worth living for. Rosa had been worth living for. Everyone who had been kind to me at the Inn was worth it, Anna was worth it. Murtagh was worth it.

So that was it then. Suicide was no longer an option. There was too much for me in this life. Too much worth living for.

**A/N: Yeah. I wasn't sure about the ending on this one, but I sort of wanted to just wrap it up. Hey! That chapter was long too! Don't get used to it though. **

**Also, I know that as far as ages and whatnot go, I'm not really following the book. But does a year in either direction really matter? I'm trying to keep everything making sense as far as the books and this story, but it's hard so sorry if I mess up. I give you permission to rant. **

**Oh yes, and I know the flashbacks weren't really in order (well, in this chapter they were, but in the other one they weren't and all together they aren't) so…yeah. I hope it wasn't too confusing. **

**REVIEW!**


	12. Coach Karol with a K

**A/N: This is named after my swim coach. **

**Also, sorry about my random disappearance. Between the play, asthma, finals (shudder), school, etc. etc. fanfiction didn't quite make it to the top of my list of priorities. **

**Well, I don't have any more to say now – but I will later, just wait until my ending A/N. On with the show! **

Rebecca's POV

Deciding that I had a reason to live had a strange effect on me. It made me think that since I was going to continue breathing, I may as well be happy as I did so.

I kept busy. I rearranged the furniture in my room, I practiced reading, I picked up my embroidery again. I found some fabric in the bottom of my little wardrobe and learned (more or less) how to sew from a tailor who lived not far from the castle. I visited the kitchens more often, cooking elaborate meals and experimenting with different dishes. I saw Terrance every now and again too, and he once invited over for his sister Mariah's birthday. I surprised her with a cake; a rich, chocolate one with thick white frosting and little pink flowers I had slaved over for hours, trying to make every petal perfect.

Gradually the color returned to my cheeks. I began to smile every once in a while, and sometimes (though it was rare) laugh. Life was suddenly more beautiful, people were worth more.

"You seem happier," commented Helen, the head cook, one day as I was washing out the bowl and spoon I had been using.

I realized she had been watching me for a while, and that I was singing. I stopped. "I think I am." I dried the dishes, then hugged her quickly. "Thank you!"

She smiled at me. "Anytime, sweetheart."

I hung up my apron on a peg on the wall, then walked out into the hallway. Halfway back to my room, I decided that it really wasn't all that late yet, and I might as well take a walk around the castle.

I walked mostly in silence for a moment, until suddenly an ear-piercing shriek rang out through out the hallways. It was cut off as quickly as it had come. I stopped, my heart beating quickly and loudly. It wasn't the kind of shriek you heard when pranks were being played, when people were teasing each other, when things were dropped or spilled. It wasn't that sort of an everyday shriek that you heard and forgot about. No, it was the sort of shriek that kept you awake at night, that haunted your dreams, that you remembered until your dying day. The sort of shriek that made you remember horrible, horrible things, that made you…remember. The shriek that made you question what was waiting for you when you died, and how good of a person you'd been. Whoever, whatever it was screamed once more.

Slowly, I began to make my way toward the noise. Every few moments I would hear the shrieking again, and eventually I traced it to a room. The throne room. I was still for a moment, remembering my own experience in there not too long ago. My breathing was swift and shallow. Another scream. I hesitated for a moment, then tried the door. Just to peek in. Maybe I could somehow help whoever was being tortured, though most likely I couldn't. I cracked the door open.

"Where are they!?" The king demanded. I shrunk back slightly, then realized he wasn't yelling at me. Or course he wasn't, that idea was stupid. A slender, beautiful but clearly abused girl was cowering on the floor. She had long, red hair and bruises all over her fair skin.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "I don't know." She let out another shriek.

"They broke in!" He yelled. "You must have talked to them – I know they saw you!"

"But I didn't! I didn't even realize it was them, I – I –" She was writhing on the floor.

"Tell me, you foolish little girl! What are their plans? Where are they going?" He seized her by the hair, and pulled her up off the floor roughly. "When are they going to strike?"

"Please – your grace, your majesty, your highness, I don't-" He threw her back down, and she screamed in pain. I put my hand to my mouth, trying to cover up my gasp.

Suddenly, I didn't see a stranger and the king in the throne room. I saw a scared little fifteen year old girl and her angry father in the middle of a street. I saw all the pain and misery etched into that girl's face, and the fury of her father. I saw unhappiness, shame, fear. And I saw me.

_Becca-_

I couldn't hold back. "Stop!" I yelled, opening the door all the way and running in. "Leave her alone! If she doesn't know she doesn't know!"

_What are you doing? _asked a voice in the back of my head. _Stop right there Rebecca – stop _nowIt sounded like Murtagh, though that was impossible, of course. Wasn't it?

_I need to help her. _

_There's nothing you can do now, she's good as dead. As you will be, if you don't get out! Listen to me, don't be stupid, you know better than this. You know you know better than this. _

_No.  
_

_Get out! Rebecca, if you do not get out of that throne room this very instant-_

I shook my head, and knelt besides the girl. She was crying. I put an arm around her. "Are you alright?" She shook her head. "What is your name?"

"K-Katrina," she whispered.

I embraced her. "It's alright Katrina. Shhh. You're alright."

"How touching," said the king. Katrina buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed. "I suppose it's nice to see each other again."

"Again?" I asked.

"Yes. Especially after all the adventures, secrets, stories you shared."

I pulled away from the girl and looked her in the face for a moment. "Kat?" I asked incredulously.

"Reba!" She suddenly leaned forward and embraced me again, tears still running down her cheeks. "Reba, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you!" 

"Kat! I – I can't believe it! I've missed you so much!"

Kat was here. _Here_, of all places. She had been my best friend. When we were really little we had lived in Carvahall together, until I had moved to the capital. We were practically sisters, joined at the hip, nearly inseparable.

"Hm," said the king slowly. "I wonder…" He stared at us a moment more. "Very well then," he said. "You two have one week. Catch up, talk, do whatever you would like to do, so long as it's within the castle grounds. And at the end of the week, you," he gestured toward Katrina "are going to tell me where Roran and Eragon are, and you," he gestured toward me, "are going to tell me where Anna is. Or you are both going to die. Understood? Wonderful." He left.

We were silent. I had no idea who Roran and Eragon might be, but they were probably as important to Kat as Anna was to me.

"So," she said quietly after a moment. "Now what?"

Katrina's POV

It was surreal seeing Reba again. I hadn't forgotten about her, of course, but still…it had been ages. And after everything that had happened over the past few years, particularly the last few months, she was the last person in the world I expected to see.

After a moment she stood, then helped me to as well. She was younger than me, but even in our youth she had always been the more…mature one. The maternal one (or as maternal as one can be at four years old), in a way, the older sister. She led me through the castle to a room where we sat down on a small blue couch.

"Kat," she said. "What's happened to you?"

"Well, we continued to live in Carvahall for a while. Until not too long ago, though it seems like years have passed. And then…then…" I started off with Eragon's disappearance, then the appearance of the Ra'zac, the battle. I blushed madly when I told her about Roran's proposal, and held back tears told her about my capture and the betrayal of my father. I had been flown to Helgrind, where I had been held prisoner for months.

"It was horrible," I said with a shiver. "They were the vilest creatures, like death itself. They used to beat me all the time for no reason, just their presence made me want to die. They…they made me watch my father die," I choked. "I might have gone mad in that place, I never saw the sun. Ever. The most light I ever saw was the flickering light of the torches, and I thought for sure that the constant flickering light, and the screaming, and the darkness would drive me to insanity. But somehow or another it didn't work like that."

"One day I was ready to give up. I was tired, and bleeding, and malnourished. I had been locked up without food or water for days, or at least what felt like days, I was sure I would die, and if I didn't they were planning kill me anyway. Something about needing more room. But then I heard fighting in the hallways. There was shouting and the sound of metal on metal and I saw _him_. He was there, he was alive, and he had come to rescue me."

The moment he saw me, Roran had come running, leaving Eragon to more or less deal with the Ra'zac alone. He and Eragon had broken the wall, and for a moment I saw sunlight behind him. Not the brightest of light, or the most, but sunlight nonetheless. "I could have sworn he was an angel," I admitted.

**Flashback**

Roran ran to my cell, clawed at the bars like a maniac. "They won't break," I told him, in a dull, monotone voice. Helgrind had really taken its toll on me. "They're held up by magic." He sunk to his knees.

"Katrina," he whispered. "I am so sorry."

"For what?" I asked. I reached through the bars and took his hands in my own, smiling weakly. It was difficult, I had almost forgotten how to.

"I should have come sooner, but I – I couldn't. There were things to be done, and I couldn't without Eragon – he's a dragon Rider now, and I – I –"

Tears streamed down my face. "I love you," I said. "Thank you for coming. I wish you could have stayed longer."

"What? No, don't talk like that, I'm here now, I'm going to free you, we're going to fly you to Dauth. There's a healer there, her name is Angela, she can help you. I've sworn to help Eragon to avenge my father; the two fiends who killed him aren't here though. You're going to stay in Dauth while we track and kill them, then Eragon's agreed to fly us to Reavstone. We're going to get married, at long last, and then we'll sail away forever. Right off of the map. We'll be safe, Katrina."

"No." I shook my head. "That can't happen. Roran, they're going to kill me tonight." My voice was still emotionless.

He gaped at me. "Tonight? Well - no matter, we're going to get you out of here. Right now. Eragon! Eragon come help me, I'm not strong enough to break these!" He pulled his hands out of mine and shook the bars of the cell.

"We have to go!" Eragon shouted back. He killed the monster he was fighting, then ran up and grabbed his cousin's arm. "Come on Roran! More are coming, we can't fight them all off – we'll have to come back later when we're ready!"

"No!" Roran roared as he pulled away from his cousin. "They're going to kill her tonight! We can't just leave! You – you swore you would help me!"

"We don't have a choice! They're coming!" He looked nervously toward the stairs.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

"No-"

"Go. You have to get out of here."

"Listen to her!" shouted Eragon. "If we stay another moment we will die!"

"Go Roran."

He looked down at me. "Katrina." His voice cracked. He leaned down and kissed me through the bars. "I love you. I _will _save you, I will. I swear it."

"I love you too."

Then he was gone. The monsters burst into the hallway. One came up to me. He passed through the bars of my cell, and held me up against the wall. "Where are they?" he hissed. "Where?"

"I don't know."

He pulled out a knife and held it against my throat. "I'm not feeling particularly patient today. Where are they?" He added pressure to the knife, and it barely cut into my skin. I felt blood trickling down my neck, but was silent. He screamed in fury, then pulled the knife away from me. There was the sound of wind, and everything went black.

**End of Flashback**

"But he had to go, they were coming, they couldn't rescue me. The king had me brought to the castle later on. In a way he did rescue me, I suppose. The king spared my life because he thought I could give him information on the Varden, on Eragon and Roran."

"Can you?"

"Maybe. But I can't at the same time." I started crying again. "Rebecca, I can't tell him where they are. I can't. I love him, I can't betray him, leave him for dead."

"I understand. I love Anna; I can't tell him where she is."

"Who is Anna?" I asked.

"My…it's a long story."

"I have time. A week, I suppose."

She told me her story. My heart ached for her, she of all people deserved a better life. She had put up with three annoying brothers, a quiet, tearful mother, and a loud, usually kind but short-tempered father. And that was all before she turned two years old. 

"Reba," I said, embracing her. "I am so sorry."

"I suppose neither of us really got the happily-ever-after we always dreamed of, did we?"

"It's not over yet." But soon…

"I suppose not. Here. You can take the room across the hall; you'll be comfortable and warm there. Nobody ever uses it anymore; I'll see you in the morning." She walked me across the hallway and into a little bedroom.

"Thank you Reba."

"Of course." She hugged me once more. "Good night."

"Night."

**A/N: Okay, so this is something totally different than what I was planning to do. I hope you like it anyway, and…yeah. REVIEW! **

**Oh yes, question time, question time. There is no such thing as a stupid question, only an inquisitive idiot. Which I am. So…**

**It's an Eragon fanfic. I know, shocking. So, I was thinking – should I add more things that are likely to happen in the third book to this story? It will still be mostly about Murtagh and Rebecca, of course, but I'd just pair up a few people, hatch a couple dragons, fulfill some prophecies, etc. **

**Also, if I choose to do so, who should be my new Rider? **

**BEWARE – do not read from this point on if you don't want to read what is likely going to happen later in this fic. In other words, spoilers abound. Fake spoilers, but…yeah, spoilers nonetheless. **

**I know I want it to be a girl – but whom? Not, Rebecca, that's a little too Sue-ish. I was thinking Katrina (I've got some stuff I've wanted to use that could come into play if she was the new Rider). And maybe even Anna (we all love Anna!). Or some other random OC…but I refuse to use Arya as my next Rider because I hate her with every fiber of my being. Long story. **

**IT IS SAFE TO READ AGAIN – huzzah. **

**What else….oh yes. I need names. Names for humans, dragons, and elves. I suck at making up names. The only people who I've created are all named after people I know (except for Rebecca – it's weird, but I've never really met an actual Rebecca in real life, except for my aunt who died a long time ago, and she wasn't Rebecca, she was Becky). **

**And yes, I may get pelted with rotten tomatoes, overdue library books, and rocks for saying this, but…I**_** am**_** trying to think up an ending. (cringe) The story's not anywhere near over, oh no, I still have plenty to write, but…all things must come to an end. Yes, Carly, even the Energizer bunny. And I want to know how you think it should end. Vote now! **

**a) a big, fluffy, sappy, slightly un-realistic ending that makes you want to either sigh or puke – think fairy tales (not the Grimm ones) **

**b) an extremely tragic ending – think ****Romeo and Juliet**** or ****King Lear****, where everyone dies, life sucks, and evil/death more or less triumphs**

**c) a mixed ending – some happy, some sad, some…uh…purple**

**d) I'll just play it by ear, and not worry too much about the ending yet, and write whatever seems to fit best in the end**

**e) (I get a dollar for adding this one) they all die in some freak baboon accident while on safari in…uh…Surda**

**And one more thing – Anna. Yes, we all know and love lovely little Annabelle. And where is she? (sigh) **

**BEWARE – more spoilers (if a fanfic can even have spoilers…I'll look into that) **

**She is currently on a boat, just barely off the coast of Surda, down sort of by Aroughs. And yes, alive. **

**SPOILERS OVER – you can look now.**

**I'm thinking about writing a sequel/companion story about what happens/is happening to Anna when I finish this. And for those of you who like to avoid spoilers (even if they are fake), you will find out where/how she is within the next four chapters max. (I think…) Keep hanging in there. And no, Rebecca has not forgotten Anna. She's just trying a little harder to live. Let me rephrase – she's trying a little harder to be happy while she lives. **

**And before I forget: To my awesome reviewer who is apparently a bit of a pyromaniac: fire, huh? I like it. I have the next couple chapters planned out already, but I do like the idea. I'll see what I can do. **

**Sorry that this A/N was soooooooo long, but I had things to say. Reviewers will be smothered in hugs and Hershey's kisses, unless, of course, they hate Hershey's kisses, in which case they can have...um…more hugs. And vice versa. I really need opinions and suggestions right now, so please review! I'll update ASAP. Bye! **


	13. Chapter EllieEllieEllie

**A/N: Here you go. This one's named after my super awesome friend Ellie, who just so happens to be an evil goth chicken in the play. I bet you aren't an evil goth chicken. **

Rebecca's POV

I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder. It was so loud it seemed to shake the whole castle. I felt the ice cold air blowing against my face, and remembered unhappily I had left the window open. With a sigh, I tried to get up out of bed to shut it, but found myself unable to.

"What-?" Someone was holding me so tightly I couldn't move. "You're back," I whispered into the darkness.

"Just for tonight. I had to find my way around a lot of oaths to get here. He's not going to be happy with me."

"Why?"

He held me tighter. "I thought you were dead."

Dead? Why would he think that? "What?"

"I know you aren't a huge fan of magic, but still…while I was away, I couldn't help but try to keep track of you at least a little. I was always there, in your mind, but just barely, enough to get only the most general thoughts and feelings. It's hard to do from such a distance; if I hadn't known you so well I wouldn't have been able to. And then, when you were thinking about going into the throne room…you don't know him like I do, Becca. You don't know how easily he could hurt you. You don't know how ready he is to kill, how he wouldn't lose a bit of sleep over another murder. You were going to help that girl – Katrina, right? I remember your memories of her. You two were sisters in all but blood. But you should have allowed her to die-"

"Murtagh!"

"It's true."

What was he saying? "I – you – what?"

"I think he believes you can somehow convince each other to give him information; that's the only reason you're alive right now. He'd like to do it in a…gentler way, if you will. He doesn't want damaged goods. Anyway, right at the moment you went in, you were so determined not to listen, and I was so far away and the link was so fragile, it snapped. And I thought you were dead."

I didn't reply. He could worry about me, but he couldn't ask me to allow other people to get hurt so that I was alright. "Maybe you should go," I finally whispered after an eternity of cold silence.

His hold loosened ever so slightly. "Maybe I should." He didn't leave.

"We aren't exactly starting over if we're already in the same bed," I pointed out.

"I'm sorry. I just need this for tonight. Just this." He tightened his embrace again. "I won't ask for anything more."

He wouldn't have gotten it either. I didn't say anything else. I only glared at the wall ahead of me and wished the window were shut, though I wasn't very cold anymore. He changed position slightly, but kept his arms around me. I struggled against his grip, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"Becca…please."

That almost destroyed any resolve I had. He was vulnerable, he was hurt, he was scared, and it showed in his voice. "Please," he said again. He was begging. I was still silent, but I stopped moving and allowed him to hold me. I heard him sigh and felt his warm breath against my hair. "Maybe I did overreact. It's much easier to have the proper perspective when I have you safely _here_."

I had to admit that I did like the sound of that. That he worried when he wasn't with me, that he cared, that he wanted me with him. Still trying to pass myself off as angry (or at least stubborn), though, I didn't tell him and instead asked, "Do you know anything about Anna?"

It was the longest time before he answered. "No," he finally breathed. "I don't. But I'm almost certain that he intends to have me find out, especially if you don't tell him your exact plans for her."

"Why?"

"Punishment. What could possibly be worse than turning my own daughter over to him?" There was no emotion in his voice. I was silent.

"Tell me about her," he said after a moment. "Please. I want to know about my child. What games does she like to play? What does she like to eat? Is she intelligent? Sarcastic? How old is she?"

This surprised me. What surprised me even more is when I thought about exactly how little he knew about her. He had seen her only once in his life. "Well, she – she's three. But she already knows how to ride a horse, more or less, so I'm hoping…she doesn't like vegetables. If it's green she won't eat it. She loves to be read to. She looks almost exactly like you – she has the exact same blue eyes. And the same birthday. She loves dolls; I had a friend who made them for her out of leftover scraps of cloth. No matter how much sun she gets, she's always pale, but not a sickly pale. Just pale. She sings constantly, and makes up her own songs. Her favorite color is blue. She's extremely clever with an incredible imagination. And she wants to have a daddy." I said the last sentence so quietly I wasn't sure if he could hear. "She wants to meet her father. She wants you in her life."

But he heard me nonetheless. "She does? Really?" I didn't reply.

"Does she?" He took my face in one hand and turned it toward him, so I was looking him in the eyes that reminded me so much of my little Anna. "Does she really want me?"

I was still quiet, but I nodded slightly, barely inclining my head. Murtagh shut his eyes. "She wants her father. My daughter Anna wants to know who I, her father, am." He liked those words, I could tell. "My daughter."

I looked away again, and his arm that had been holding my face slipped back around my waist. "Good night," he whispered as I shut my eyes.

**A/N: Yes, it was short, but review anyway. You just got three pretty long ones in a row. This should tide you over until I can update again. **

**Also, time to clear things up. I thought I'd do it in a quick A/N instead of trying to go back and fix everything. **

**I've finally figured out birthdays and whatnot, so here's how they work: **

**Murtagh – let's just say his birthday is at the end of March. They probably don't have a March in Alagaesia, but for the sake of March let there be March. **

**Rebecca – the end of June. Now you're all probably thinking, "Wait, a fourteen year old and a seventeen year old? Gross! Call the fanfiction police and have them burn this swim freak at the stake!" Please give me a moment to try and save myself from certain death. Think of it this way; at heart, Murtagh really was still a bit of a fourteen year old boy. And Rebecca's pretty mature for her age. Also, in several years, they'll be twenty one and twenty four right after Murtagh's birthday and before Rebecca's, and that's really not that bad. Especially because Rebecca's twenty – second birthday will be coming up really soon after that. And back then there really wasn't that much of a concept of adolescence – you were basically a child and then you were an adult. Breathe. **

**Anna – her birthday is the same day as Murtagh's. I don't know why I like that so much, but…yeah. **

**Okay, we've got just a few more other random dates to sort out. **

**Murtagh's 17****th**** birthday he meets the king for the first time, and likes him and the ideas he presents at that time. **

**Rebecca's 15****th**** birthday she gets pregnant. **

**One month after her 15****th**** birthday Murtagh sees the king again, and sees who he really is. He leaves that night. **

**Two months after Murtagh leaves (three months after her 15****th**** birthday) Rebecca figures out she's pregnant. **

**Nine months after her 15****th**** birthday, one year after Murtagh first meets the king, and eight months after he leaves, Anna is born and has the same birthday as Murtagh. **

**Ah. Let us all breathe a long sigh of relief. Or something like that. I'm so glad I finally got that figured out. And yes, I do realize that I've sort of got a lot riding on this whole "Rebecca is very mature for her age" thing, but it's fanfiction. Who freaking cares? **

**Also, I just posted a story about Anna in about 14 years. It's not my best, and I might remove it, but if you want to go take a look at that it's called Anna. It's a random bit of her life and a meeting she has with Eragon where she finds out who her father is. **

**So…yeah. Another long A/N. I'll update when possible. **


	14. Juxtaposition

**Hello again. I'm going to do two things very quickly: 1) Tell you that no, I am not dead, and I have no intention to not see this story through to the bitter end, and 2) apologize profusely for the many years it has taken to update. I broke my thumb, so I'm not exactly world's best typer right now, and…yeah. If there's any way to make it up to you, please let me know. **

**The name of this one is the first random word that popped into my head when I posted this. Now on with the show! **

Murtagh's POV

Everything felt so perfect. I was warm, and I was home. Not because I was at the castle, which could never be home. Because I was with her. She felt so right in my arms. This was where I was meant to be. This was where we were meant to be. With each other.

_Where are you? _Thorn roared. _We need to go back. _

_I can't. _

_Forget about her Murtagh – we need to leave. If we hurry he might not stop us and this whole thing could be forgotten. _

_Thorn, I truly can't right now. I need her. _

_So toss her on my back and let's go. _

I paused. I had to admit, the offer was tempting. But I didn't want her where I was. I didn't want her at that camp, with those people, in the middle of war and death and pain and grief and disease. I closed my eyes, trying to freeze time and this exact moment, to have it etched in my mind forever.

Thorn cursed. _He's just found out about us. He wants us in the throne room. Now. _

_Alright. I'm coming. _Unhappily I released her and climbed out of her bed. I stared down at her sleeping figure, and gently pulled the blankets up over her and hoped she was warm enough.

_Now Murtagh! Ugh – can't you tuck her in some other time? _

_I'm coming. _With one last look and a sigh I turned to the door and left, closing it quietly behind me. It was very early, and the castle was not yet waking up, though it would soon be full and very busy. I walked down the sleepy halls, glad that Thorn was now silent, happy to be alone with my thoughts. Well, not happy, but…grateful.

I walked slowly, not in any hurry for the torture session that was sure to come. I wondered how angry he would be. Very angry. He would not be pleased that I had left the army down in Bullridge and come back up here just to see "my foolish little slattern". My eyes narrowed at the thought of his name for her. That was probably his most polite name for her too.

Eventually, I reached the throne room, and knocked hesitantly. "Enter," I heard him say. I squared my shoulders and walked in.

He was not in the throne, where he usually was. Instead, he was out in the middle of the big room, beside Thorn, who was already there (there was a way that took a surprisingly small amount of energy to open the ceiling with magic so Thorn could fly in, and then to also close it back up). He glared at me.

"Why aren't you in Bullridge?" he demanded.

I knelt before him – flattery was always a good way to go. "I'm sorry my lord," I said, hoping I sounded sincere. "It will not happen again."

"Get up," he spat. I stood obediently. "You didn't answer my question. Why aren't you in Bullridge?"

"I…er, had some matters to attend to at the castle, and I thought that they could get along fine without me just for a couple hours," I lied.

"What? I told you to stay in Bullridge until I sent for you."

"I'm sorry, sire."

I felt his consciousness leaking into my own. It was unpleasant feeling, I doubted I would ever be used to it. I was about to resist, but refrained from doing so. There was no point to it; the outcome would be the same, except he would be angry and I would be in pain.

He replayed my memories of the previous night in my mind. "I don't believe it," he said. "You snuck back here just to make sure that your little whore was alright?"

"She's not a whore," I said quietly. "She's a person. A good person too."

He spat on the floor in front of me.

Rebecca's POV

I didn't sleep well. I had nightmares, ones of horrible things happening that left me shrieking for Murtagh although I was sure he couldn't hear.

But when I did awake, it left me longing for the nightmares.

I opened my eyes as someone pounded on my door. "Open up!"

"Huh?" I asked sleepily to no one in particular. "What?"

"What are you doing?" asked another voice in the hallway. "Who are you?" I recognized the speaker as Katrina.

"Kat?" I asked blankly.

"Out of the way little girl," said the first voice. "We're here to get Rebecca. If you aren't her, then it's best you leave now." He pounded on the door again. "Open up! Open – oh, just break the bloody thing down."

I sat up in bed. I was tired; what was happening?

The door collapsed, and I stupidly stared at it. Then the soldiers came in. I stared stupidly at them too, until they came over to my bed and grabbed me by the arms. I screamed. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry," said the one who had my arm, though he didn't look or sound sorry at all. "King's orders."

They dragged me out of my bed, kicking and screaming. "Let go of me!" I yelled.

I saw Kat as they dragged me into the hallway. "Reba!" she cried. She tried to get to me, but one of the soldiers held her back. "Reba what's happening?" she called.

"I don't – ow! Let go of me! Let go!"

It was in this undignified and uncomfortable fashion that they led me to the throne room. I recognized the door to that awful room, and screamed louder. "Let go!" I kicked harder, and felt my foot make contact with the man holding my right arm. He doubled over with a grunt, letting go of my arm. I swung my now free arm around to hit the man on my left arm in the face, but he ducked and another man grabbed my right arm. I tried to pull away, until the man I assumed was the leader yelled "Shut up!" He reached toward his waist, and my eyes widened. But he didn't draw his sword and proceed to chop me into a thousand pieces, like I thought he would. Instead he pulled out a knife, which he held to my throat.

"Our orders were to bring you to Galbatorix," he hissed. "He didn't specifically say that you had to be alive." I stopped screaming. "Good," he said. They marched me through the door, and released me, pushing me down to the floor at Galbatorix's feet. I looked around wildly – what was happening?

"Hello, Rebecca," said the King softly. "You may go," he told the soldiers. They bowed out.

He turned and began to walk around me in circles. "Would you like to know what happens when you don't follow orders, Murtagh?" he asked loudly. I saw Murtagh standing against a wall, as though invisible chains held him there.

"What's happening?" I asked him.

"I said," said the King, louder than before and still walking around me. "Would you like to know what happens?"

Murtagh seemed to be struggling to say something, but couldn't. The King laughed.

"Come now," he said. "Surely you at least have a guess?"

"Murtagh?" I asked, frightened.

Whatever was preventing Murtagh from speaking was suddenly removed. "Let her go!" he shouted. "I'm sorry – the fault is mine, my lord, all mine! She has nothing to do with this!"

"I think you will find she has everything to do with this."

"Murtagh, what's happening?!" I cried.

"Don't hurt her!" he shouted. "Don't you dare harm a single hair on her head!"

The King smiled, and I shrieked. The pain was so intense I thought I would die. I thought I had died, and gone to hell. Everything _hurt_. White hot knives dug into every inch of my body; there was so much pressure on my bones – all of them – that I thought they would break. Everywhere everything was either so hot it felt like ice or so cold it felt like fire. I screamed and screamed and screamed, and so did Murtagh, but suddenly that didn't matter anymore. Suddenly nothing mattered, not Murtagh not Anna not the King, not even me; nothing mattered except that I wanted the pain stop. Fireworks went off inside my head and every time my heart beat it sent out another wave of pain. I willed it to stop beating. The King pulled out of my mind all at once, and the pain slowly ebbed away. I lay on the floor, broken, sobbing, hurting.

"Stop!" cried Murtagh again. "Don't! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"Oh," said the King. "If you insist." He walked toward Murtagh. "You're right of course, my dear boy. I'm afraid the lesson won't be quite as effective as it needs to be if you just watch me hurt her for an hour or two." Hour or two. So far he'd just tortured me for less than three minutes. And hour or two was an eternity. An eternity or two. Even that didn't seem long enough. "You see, I want you to really, really, _really_ learn that you must follow orders. Without discipline, after all, you are nothing." Murtagh glared at the King, who seemed to not be affected in the slightest by his seething glower. "So," my boy, said the King at last. "I will not hurt her anymore."

Murtagh stopped glaring and closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you my lord, master, your highness – thank you so much! You are so wise, so kind, so gracious…" he continued to grovel.

Galbatorix held up his hand and Murtagh stopped talking. "I am not finished," he said. "I said that I would not hurt her anymore."

"Yes, thank you-"

"But you will."

Murtagh stared at him, looking horrified. "W-what?"

"You heard me." Galbatorix turned and the invisible chains holding Murtagh to the wall were gone, and he fell forward to the floor. "Get up, you useless boy," he said. "Up. Now." Murtagh slowly obliged.

I looked up at both of them, breathing heavily. Murtagh wouldn't look at me.

"You remember your torture spells, correct?" asked the King. "I would hope so. You must look at her, boy." Murtagh slowly turned his head until he was looking at me. Not into my eyes, but still at me. "Good. You know the words."

"M-murtagh?" I asked. "Are you…" I trailed off. "Murtagh?" There was fear in my voice, and I knew there was fear in my eyes. Murtagh would never hurt me. Would he? No, of course not, that was preposterous. Wasn't it?

He shook his head. "I can't," he said, looking at the King. "I can't."

The King sighed. "That is understandable. I will permit you to take her punishment."

"Thank you, thank you," Murtagh said gratefully, falling to his knees. "Thank you, my lord."

"Captain," said the King, ignoring Murtagh. A man in armor who had held the knife to my throat walked in through the door.

"Yes majesty?"

"Kill the girl. I have not use for her anymore."

Murtagh froze and looked up at the king, terrified, his eyes wide as though he did not believe what he had just heard.

"Actually," continued the King. "You may take her back to all your fine men; have some fun with her. They deserve a new toy. Keep her as long as you'd like, and then kill her."

The captain smiled. "Yes sir!" he said, saluting. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. I started screaming again.

"Let go! Don't touch me – let go!"

He smiled some more. "I'm sure my men will have plenty of fun with you. If you're good, maybe we'll let you live a little longer. We'll see."

"No!" I shrieked as he dragged me toward the door. "Don't! Let go of me!" I looked around, helpless. "Murtagh!" I screamed.

"STOP!" he shouted. "STOP!"

The captain slowed, but didn't stop entirely.

"Do as he says," said the King. He turned to Murtagh. "It's your call, Murtagh. Your turn to decide."

Murtagh stood still for a long time. Thorn was still held to the wall with invisible chains, and he growled. The King and captain waited.

Murtagh closed his eyes. "Release her," he told the captain. "I will…I will do it."

Slowly, reluctantly, the captain let go of my arm. I pulled away from him, tripping and half crawling half running a few yards away.

The King laughed. "I do love this game," he said. "Very well then, Murtagh. Captain, you may leave. Boy, she's all yours."

Murtagh stared at me with a blank expression. "Murtagh?" I asked. "Murtagh?"

He muttered something under his breath, and stars exploded behind my eyelids. There were a thousand paper cuts having lemon juice poured on them. The fire and ice returned. Fire and ice. Fire and ice. I screamed. I cried. I begged for death. "Kill me! Kill me!" Someone was rubbing salt into my invisible wounds. My bones shattered, and I lost myself in the pain.

I don't know how long it went on. It could have been hours, or seconds, or years. All I know is that it hurt, and that Murtagh was doing it to me.

I hated him. He told me he loved me. I had let him kiss me and touch me and whisper in my ear. I gave birth to his child. I had been his best friend for years, and then his lover. And now, he did this to me. He hurt me, more than I'd ever been hurt before. He made me want to die, he made me sob and writhe and break. When he was finished seconds or hours or years later he still had the blank expression on his face, and he looked at me as I lay on the floor. "Kill me," I begged once more between sobs. The King threw back his head and laughed. "I am certain you learned something, Murtagh."

So quietly, so I almost didn't hear, "Yes, sir."

"And I hope you will now follow orders."

"Yes sir."

He laughed once more. "Then you may go. Take your slut with you."

Wordlessly, Murtagh walked over to me, and gently scooped me up in his arms. I tired to talk, to tell him to put me down and leave me alone, but I couldn't talk, much less move. He carried me back through the hallways, and I closed my eyes. Everything still hurt. There were times when I felt like I was burning, or freezing, again. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and bit my lip when this happened.

He brought me back to my room. He stepped through the doorway – the door was hanging by one hinge, broken. He whispered something as we walked past and it repaired itself. He set me down on my bed and turned to leave, but then seemed to change his mind. I cried into the pillow and he sat by me on the bed and stroked my hair.

"Becca?" he asked quietly.

"G-go away!" I shouted, pulling away from him. "Leave me alone."

He took his hand away, but didn't leave. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, I can't believe I did that to you, I-"

"Well you did!" I scooted off the bed and stood in the corner by the bookshelf, away from him and not looking at him. "You hurt me," I whispered. "You…hurt me." The words were strange in my mouth, and bitter, but true.

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I didn't want to. Rebecca, I've never wanted to hurt you, I didn't know if it was possible for me to hurt you. I love you, Becca, I love-"

I turned on him. "Shut up!" I shouted through my tears. They were angry tears now. "Go away! I hate you! Leave me alone." I collapsed on the floor, and curled up with my back against the wall.

"Rebecca?"

"I told you; I hate you. Go away." I bowed my head so I wouldn't have to look at him. "Leave me. I never want to hear or kiss or love or talk to or see you ever again Murtagh."

"Rebecca, I'm sorry," he tried again, getting off the bed and standing but not coming any closer. "I don't know what else to do. Please, let me help you, let me make it right, let me hold you and somehow find your forgiveness-"

"No. I don't want you to try to make it right. I just want you to go away."

"Becca-"

"Don't talk to me! Just get out. Leave."

He stood still for a moment, then turned and left. I heard him slam the door behind him. I cried.

Eventually, I heard a soft knock on the door. "I don't want to talk to you! Go away – I told you that I don't want to ever see you again."

"Reba, it's me."

"Oh." I stood slowly and wiped away some of the tears. "Come in."

Kat opened the door, walked in cautiously, and then rushed to my side. "Reba!" she said, embracing me. "What have they done to you?"

"You mean what has he done to me."

"Who? The King?"

"Murtagh."

She was quiet for a moment. "Oh. Are you alright?" 

I pulled out of her embrace. "No!" I shouted. "No I'm not! I hate him. I hate him." I started crying again. Kat hugged me again.

"Shhh," she whispered. "Shhh. It's alright honey, it's alright. You're fine, it's alright, don't worry. Shhh." I cried into her shoulder and she cradled me back and forth. After a long time, I pulled away, wiped my eyes, and smiled at her.

"Thanks Kat," I said quietly. "So much."

"Of course."

I looked down at my nightdress. "I should get dressed, shouldn't I?" I said. "Right. I'll be right back." I changed in the washroom into a short navy blue dress that I loved (I had actually made it myself) and riding britches I had borrowed from a confused page. One sleeve was a good six inches shorter than the other, which was too long, but otherwise it fit well and was soft and warm. The entire castle had been colder lately, and the surrounding grounds were now white with snow. I washed my hands and face, and pulled my hair back.

"I'm alright now," I lied when I walked out. Kat smiled at me.

"You sure?"

I nodded.

"Good." She had made the bed and picked up a little while I changed, and she sat on the foot of the bed now. I came and sat beside her.

"So," I said.

"So."

"So…how are you?"

"Reba," she said quietly. "I think that I might…I might have found something."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't sleep last night," she whispered. "So I was wondering the castle. Mostly I found a lot of abandoned rooms and empty bedrooms and storage closets. But in the heart of the castle-"

"That's where the throne room is, right?"

She shook her head. "I thought it was too. But it's not. There are four hallways that lead into one big, circular room. There are guards all down the hallways, and even more at the door of the room. I asked them what was in there, but they wouldn't tell me, and they wouldn't let me see."

"It's probably just the treasury or something."

She shook her head. "No. It's a small room. And I think I know what's in there."

"Really?"

She nodded, her eyes wide with excitement. "I heard about it from the guards at Helgrind, and from Roran a little bit, and from legends. Old legends, the kind that almost nobody hears anymore, about the Riders in the days of old."

"What?" I asked.

She whispered, so quietly I cold barely hear. "An egg."

"An…egg?"

"A dragon egg, Reba. Maybe even two, but I think just one, since Murtagh has Thorn now. The last egg in the world."

"Well…so what? There's a dragon egg in the castle. What are you going to do about it?"

Her eyes glowed, just like they had when we were little and she thought up some new adventure we could go on. "Steal it," she whispered.

**A/N: Hm. It sure seems like Katrina's gonna get killed off in the next chapter or two. Oh well. Here, let's have a quick vote: shall I kill Katrina or not? Cookies for voters. **

**So…how was this one? It's just over nine pages long, which for me, it pretty good. Enjoy it while it lasts. I'll shut up now. Bye! **


	15. strawberry crepes

A/N: Hello again

**A/N: Yay! My hand is officially able to function. I feel really bad because I haven't updated in FOREVER, and another one is on the way, I swear. Chapter's named after one of my favorite foods. Mmmm… And I have nothing else to say. **

Rebecca's POV

I didn't see Murtagh at all the next day. Or the next. I didn't see him all that week. Or the next.

Instead I devoted as much of my time and energy as possible to helping Kat with her egg scheme. She was determined that we would get it, only not so sure about what to do afterward. Or really how to even steal it in the first place. At first she thought one of us could flirt with the guards, and keep them distracted while the other went in and stole the egg that, as I pointed out, might not even be there. But there were too many of them, and neither of us was really good at flirting, so that plan didn't work out very well. She then thought maybe we could form some sort of conspiracy, but it would probably have to be large, and therefore easy to lose control of and hard to keep completely secret. Today she thought that we could get it if we just had one inside man, one very powerful inside man. I asked her who she thought it should be, and she shrugged. "I don't know," she lied. I knew exactly who she was thinking of.

Despite my efforts to distract myself, I still found myself thinking about him. And I found myself asking a somewhat upsetting question. What if…what if I didn't love him? I had always thought, even after he had left me, pregnant, disowned, alone, and miserable, that I had loved him. Whenever I thought about him, I thought about him as the man I loved. But now…maybe I…didn't…

Why had I even loved him at all? What if I never had? What if our relationship was based solely on mutual physical attraction? What relationship did we even have in the first place? We were at least friends, at one point. And then what? Lovers? Perhaps I was his mistress, or his companion, or servant, or friend. And it seemed like all he ever brought me was pain. In the past months, whenever he was near, I was in pain. My heart ached, and I was unhappy and more often then not reduced to tears. There was no joy in our relationship.

In the beginning there was, wasn't there? In the stolen hours alone in the castle's surrounding grounds, when there was laughter and something that at least resembled love. "How far have we fallen?" I asked myself quietly as I lay in the darkness. "Murtagh, what happened to us?"

The next morning I saw him. Very briefly. He was in the training fields, sparring with another young soldier. I very nearly threw up. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly turned around and went back the way I had come.

I didn't see him for the rest of that day, or the next. Days drained slowly into weeks.

"This is ridiculous!" Kat suddenly shouted one day, looking up at me from the desk where she was hunched over a map of the castle.

"What?" I asked.

"All you do is sigh and cry when you think I'm not looking."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do. Reba, I can't tell whether you love him or hate him, but I can tell you that you're unhappy right now."

"I'm fine. I haven't been happy in a long time," I whispered. The last time I could remember being carelessly and effortlessly happy was moments before Murtagh had come back into my life. I read my baby girl a story and she sat in my lap. Her legs dangled and didn't quite reach the floor, and when she looked at me her eyes were wide and clear blue. She smiled, and laughed. She didn't bring happiness, she was happiness. She delighted me and all those around her. She was an angel.

Kat quickly broke my train of thought. "Then this has to stop. You have to figure out some way to make things right."

And now I was angry. "No I don't. I don't want to talk to him. I loathe him." The words stung in my mouth.

"If you won't go to him I'll find a way to make him come to you," she threatened.

I glared. "You wouldn't."

"I most certainly would." She turned on her heel and marched out of the room. I scowled at the empty doorway before following suit.

Kat was true to her word. That evening I heard a knock on my door as I prepared for bed. "Kat?" I called through the door.

"Guess again."

My heart started beating wildly. "Go away!" I shouted. "I told you to leave me alone!"

"You're unhappy."

"Leave."

"And it's my fault."

"I said leave."

"Becca, we have to talk-"

"Shut up!" I held my hands up against my ears to block out his voice, like I had done when I was a child. "I told you, please, go away and leave me alone. Why can't you do that?"

Somehow his voice was soft but I could still hear it no matter how hard I tried not to. "Because I still love you, and I think – no, I _know _you love me too!"

My hands dropped to my sides. I was silent.

I heard Murtagh sigh, and beat his fist against the wall. "Why does it have to be so hard?" he asked. For a moment all was quiet. I cautiously approached the door, but did not open it. Instead I sat down on the floor, my back against the door between us.

"Becca," he whispered. "Rebecca, I love you. I really, truly, do. You make me happy, and you make everything a little lighter, and a little easier, and you might be my only reason worth living, apart from Thorn. And I know it's probably not the best thing in the world – you would be much safer, and probably happier, if I didn't love you. The whole kingdom and beyond might be safer, because Galbatorix wouldn't have this kind of hold on me. But I do love you, and you aren't the safest or the happiest you could be, and Galbatorix does have almost complete control over me, because when I disobey him, it's you who suffers for it. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry I made you cry. I'm sorry I got you pregnant when you were still just a child. I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry I love you."

Murtagh paused, maybe waiting for a reply, which I didn't give him. I heard him stand up, and footsteps down the hallway. But a moment later, he returned. "Rebecca?" he said. "I'm sorry. But please, there has to be something, anything, there. You have to feel a little too."

"Go away," I mumbled, though I wasn't sure he heard me.

"If you come out here," he said, "and you can look me in the face and tell me that you don't love me at all, then you never have to see me again. I'll leave you alone forever, if that's what you want. You don't have to speak to me or look at me or anything, if you can truly tell me you don't love me at all."

I thought about what he said. I wondered if I could say it. I decided I had to, and whether or not I could would make no difference. "I don't love you," I whispered through the door.

"That doesn't count. Come out of there, Rebecca, look at me."

"No."

"Please."

"No." I was crying again. "Go away."

He was silent for a moment. Then he whispered, "As you wish." He was silent for a moment more. "If it helps," he continued, very quietly, "I may have news of our daughter."

I didn't know whether or not I liked him calling Anna "our daughter."

He continued. "The soldiers searched the entire city, very thoroughly, and found nothing. The King has no idea where she may be, it appears no one does. And though they found her horse, there is no sign of Anna at all."

"So she could be dead."

"It's possible, but I think that she's alive, and safe."

I hesitated. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you."

"Of course." I heard his footsteps once more.

I suddenly seemed to make up my mind about something, though I wasn't sure what.

"Wait," I said. The footsteps continued. "Wait." They grew fainter and fainter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then flung open the door. "Wait!" I screamed.

The hallway was empty.

The footsteps were gone.

"Stay," I whispered. "Please? Wait? Wait...wait."

The castle was eerily silent, except for the echo of the melancholy word. _Wait. Wait. Wait. _

**A/N: Yes, it was short. Yes, it took forever to update. Yes, it sucked. Love me anyway. **

**At least enough to review (hint hint). **


	16. Egypt

A/N: Hello again

**A/N: Hello again. The chapter's named after the place I'd like to be right now. And thank you thank you thank you to Alowl for your kind review. **

Murtagh's POV

I didn't understand it. No, I didn't understand her. What was the matter with her? Why…what…

Did she truly not love me?

Tears stung my eyes – I hadn't cried since I was a child. And now, this was what was breaking me. I was suddenly filled with self-hatred. Murtagh wasn't weak. Murtagh didn't cry. Murtagh didn't ever let his emotions get the better of him. And now I realized I had a weak point, and this was my weak point – her. Rebecca. My Rebecca, I had always called her to myself.

We had been so close. Every moment we were together was etched perfectly in my mind. Why did it have to come to an end? I thought about the good. It was all I wanted to remember. And my memories seemed to me know to be the only safe place I could go.

**Flashback**

We collapsed on the damp grass, both of us laughing hysterically.

"D-did – you – see – his – _face?_" Becca managed to ask.

I nodded, laughing too hard to even speak. We had become well known throughout the castle as quite mischievous duo – to the point that whenever anything went wrong, it was automatically both of our faults. "I can't find my horse anywhere – have you seen him?" "No, it must've been that boy and the girl with the curly hair." "Oh yes, of course! When I get my hands on them-" and so on. The victim of most of our pranks was the very large head chef of the kitchen, who hated us both with a passion. He had a small, yappy dog that followed him around everywhere and that he loved perhaps more than life. Unfortunately for him, his dog loved us that much too.

"He's – going – to kill us!" she cried.

"He can't prove it was us," I choked at last.

"He'll kill us all the same!" She rolled over closer to me and smiled.

"He'll have to catch us first," I said, which sent Rebecca into another fit of giggles.

"Oh no, what if he sets Toby on us?" she asked in mock horror. "That big, mean, tough little – I mean, evil – dog!"

"Don't worry my lady," I said theatrically. "I shall protect you from that horrible beast."

"Oh thank you kind sir," she said, batting her eyelashes. "Now I know that abominably bright pink puppy will never get me." And she burst into laughter yet again.

"I still say we should've done green."

"Next time," she said. "For sure. Or maybe we could do an array of colors – blue, red, pink, green, orange, purple…" I stared at her as she smiled and spoke and the day seemed a little brighter. Her eyes sparkled. She looked over at me after a moment of nonstop talking.

"And just what are you staring at?"

"You," I said honestly.

She stood and spun around, showing off. "And…?" she prompted.

"Hm…" I stroked my chin and looked her over very carefully. "And I think," I said at last, "that Sarah the scullery maid is much prettier."

"Hey!" she leaned over to punch me in the arm, but I grabbed her by the wrist instead and pulled her down on top of me. I sat up and held her tightly in my arms.

"Got you!"

"Let me go!" she protested, squirming back and forth.

"What's the magic word?" I teased.

"You'll never make me say it!" she cried. "Never!"

"Then I suppose that I will be forced to keep you here forever," I said, holding her all the tighter.

She somehow managed to move herself so that my arms were still around her, but she was kneeling on the ground facing me. Then suddenly her face was much too close to mine, and I could feel her breath against my skin. Her wide, beautiful blue eyes were all I could see. She placed both of her hands against my chest. "Actually," she said seductively, "that would be just fine with me." She pushed me back onto the ground so she was on top of me and pressed her lips to mine. She cradled my head between her hands and held me to her. My thoughts were suddenly clouded and I had no idea where I was. Her scent, the feel of her soft lips and warm skin, the _taste_ – she was intoxicating, enthralling, exhilarating. The world evaporated and there was nothing but her.

She pulled away much too soon. She rolled off and lay to my side again, smiling. "I'm free," she gasped in a sing song voice.

"No fair," I insisted. "That was cheating."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Was it really that bad?"

"That," I said, "is not the point. The point is that that was distinctly unfair. How in the world am I supposed to compete with that?"

She smiled. "You know you never could," she said. "And yet," she continued, "I suppose I'll have to love you anyway."

"You don't _have_ to."

Her smile widened. "But I still will."

**End of Flashback**

She was a different person now. Before she was carefree, comical, outspoken, lively, happy. And now she acted as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Was it because I'd gotten her pregnant?

Her pregnancy. That was what had changed her so much. It made her grow up too fast. I didn't know whether I was grateful for Anna or not. Anna had taken over Rebecca's life, caused her father to disown her and cast her out of his home. Ever since Rebecca had come back into my life, I privately would sometimes wish Anna had never been born. Rebecca's father would never have thrown her onto the street. She would have been allowed to remain a child (more or less…) for a longer time. Then again, maybe Anna had saved Rebecca. I was devastated after I left, I missed her so much. Becca said our daughter brought her joy. If it weren't for that joy, would she have been in as much pain as I had been in? If it weren't for Anna, would she have married someone else and had someone else's baby girl? Would she have died? What…what if things had been different?

Honestly, I blamed everything bad that had come out of Becca's pregnancy on myself. I hadn't thought it through; I hadn't even suspected there would be any real consequences for my actions. I did have a moment of indecision, but I ignored my better judgment. All I knew was that I loved her, and I wanted and needed her in every way.

**Flashback**

I closed and locked the door behind us without breaking the kiss (easier said than done) and back her up against a wall. She was breathing heavily and my skin blazed everywhere she touched it. "Murtagh," she managed to mumble between kisses. "I love you."

"I love you too," I panted. Her hands that had been wrapped around my neck came forward to toy with the top buttons of my shirt. It was that motion, and at that instant, that I felt at least a tiny amount of responsibility and was able to think clearly. I pulled away grudgingly, but at least I pulled away, taking her wrists in my hands and moving them down to her sides. "W-wait," I said, gasping for air.

We were both still, trying to calm down. "What is it?" asked Rebecca breathlessly. "Is something wrong?" She sounded anxious.

I very nearly said no and began to kiss her again, but somehow I was able to restrain myself. "Rebecca?" I asked slowly. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," she said at once, maybe over-enthusiastically. "I love you."

And for a moment I saw her as a child. I hesitated not because I thought there would be consequences, but because she was young. Very young. She was innocent and inexperienced (honestly, we both were) and she was more than willingly and devotedly doing whatever I wanted. And I wanted her. I was older, and didn't that have something to do with being wiser? And more responsible? She was so small in my arms, I was afraid I would break her. I didn't want to hurt her. And besides, what did she actually know about love?

"Maybe," I said, trying very hard to hide my reluctance and disappointment, "not…not tonight."

She stared at me. "What?" she asked, perplexed.

"Not tonight," I repeated.

She stared a moment longer then looked away. Now she stared at the floor. "Oh," she said. "Oh."

This wasn't the reaction I had expected. I was expecting her to be somewhat relieved, and to wholeheartedly agree with me. What was this? I released her wrists and took her face in my hands, forcing her to look up at me though she didn't meet my eyes.

"Rebecca?" I asked, shocked and horrified all at once. "Did I…are we…do you…?" I didn't know how to word it. Did she feel…rejected?

"I'm fine," she said, her voice cracking.

"No you aren't."

"It's okay," she said in a low voice. "I understand."

"Understand?"

She spoke in a hushed tone. "If you don't want me right now."

I stared at her a moment more before doing something neither of us was expecting. I laughed. Hard, so much it hurt. But I was glad for the pain because somehow it made the laughter more real. "Rebecca, don't be silly," I said, smiling at her as she looked up at me in bewilderment. "Of course I want you. I _need_ you, sweetheart, you're as essential as air to me."

My sweet talk mystified her. She stared in disbelief. "What?"

"I love you," I said. "How could I not want you, now or ever?"

"But-"

I silenced her by pressing my lips to hers with enthusiasm. "But nothing. I love you, Rebecca. You understand that, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "I love you too." Once again, however, her wide eyes and slim figure and deep red blush reminded me – she was a child. Barely fifteen. What did she truly think of all of this?

I reached up and held her face in both hands. It seemed as though she was trying to prove something – she looked almost defiant. But beneath her careful charade there was still just a little girl, scared and uncertain and naive. I searched her face. "Are you nervous?" I asked quietly.

She took a moment to answer, going bright red. Her eyes were anywhere but on me.

"Becca?"

She finally looked at me. "Yes," she said at last. "Very."

"Oh."

She must have sensed the ever so small bit of reluctance I felt. "But I love you," she said immediately. Her lips crashed against mine with unexpected force and urgency. "I love you, and so it's alright." She put her hands over mine, which still cradled her face. "I love you Murtagh. You are all I want, now or ever." She twisted her face to kiss the palm of my hand.

I immediately responded, holding her tightly once more and kissing her. Her hands found the buttons of my shirt again, and I did not stop her as she undid them. Her warm palms burned against my skin. I realized it was very likely that I would be damned for eternity for this – but the consequences after death were the only ones that concerned me. And honestly, I didn't care. If Rebecca was a child, then she wouldn't be much longer. I would take whatever penalty there was willingly. I would never regret it. I pulled her closer and the rest of the world dissolved. She was simply my world now, and there was nothing I was going to do about it.

**End of Flashback**

I could have prevented this. I was the older one, the supposedly more responsible one; I should have been the reasonable one. Because of my selfishness Rebecca had suffered. Because of my greed, and my clouded thoughts, she had been thrown out of her own home. She had gone through pregnancy – which couldn't have been comfortable – alone in the gutter, with people jeering at her for the "sin" she had committed that was now displayed prominently for all the world to see. She had had to work so hard, so incredibly hard to barely have enough to eat. Because of me. I shouldn't have gotten her pregnant at such a tender age. At least, I shouldn't have left her. I should have seen if that night, her birthday, had led to anything more than the end of her innocence. Tornac himself had warned me, and I had still been an arrogant fool!

**Flashback**

After I dressed and left a smiling Rebecca up in my room, I made my way through the chilly castle and onto the training grounds. It was raining profusely, and I cursed Tornac in my mind. He was nearly as stubborn as I was – which obviously didn't help with our strange relationship. Nevertheless, I still respected him, and loved him like a father. He was my father, in his eyes, and I hoped I was a son to him.

"Good morning, master Murtagh," he said as I joined him. "You look happy today."

I shrugged. "I'm simply glad to be alive."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?" Tornac had piercing gray eyes which always seemed able to see right through you. He could always tell if I was lying, if I was hiding something, anything. He knew all of my emotions instantly; he read me like an open book. "Hm." He stared at me. I hated being scrutinized. "Come," he said at last.

"Where?" I asked.

"Walking," he said simply, and I obeyed.

There was less rain in the small wood near the castle; the emerald green canvas protected the rocky path from the relentless gray clouds. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale – everything was damp, but it glistened, making it still beautiful. The sun shone through the trees at odd intervals, and the rain softly patted on the leaves like music. Everything smelled good and cleaned. Renewed. I smiled.

"Murtagh," Tornac said after we had walked for an immeasurable number of minutes. "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" I asked, inattentive. I looked around and tried to drink in the forest.

"Pay attention," he said sternly. I reluctantly looked over at him. "You're reckless," he said. Tornac didn't like to beat around the bush. "And that worries me. You are thoughtless, carefree, hasty, and tactless. Have you ever one taken a moment to _think_ about what you do?"

I shrugged.

"You're irresponsible." He shook his head.

"What do I need to be responsible for?" I asked. "There's no point in worrying about things that don't concern me."

"Someday your irresponsibility will lead to something that will force you to become responsible."

His weighty words seemed to hang dense in the cool wet air, but I dismissed them with a casual wave of my hand. "Like what?"

"You'll kill the wrong person. And people will suffer for it. You'll make one careless decision in a battle, and millions will die. You will make a wrong choice for the country you will one day help the king to lead, and Alagaesia will fall into ruin and decay. You might mock the wrong man, bed with the wrong woman, underestimate the wrong child. You are not like other people, Murtagh. You are going to have much more important choices to make, and you will have to be and leader and an example. You don't realize the price you might pay in the end."

I had no idea he was referring to Rebecca.

"I'll learn responsibility," I said simply.

"In a year?" he asked. "In a day?"

"It can't be all that hard," I muttered. I didn't want to be here – I wanted to find Rebecca again. I'd much rather be with her than him right now.

"You've had seventeen years," he said. "And you still have not learned it. Seventeen years to figure out how to carry a little weight on your shoulders. And you have nothing to show for it."

I didn't reply. Instead I unhappily studied the path we were walking on.

"Murtagh," he said quietly. "What do you want in the future?"

This question surprised me. "I don't really know," I said honestly. "To be alive, I suppose. Respected. A good leader and general."

"Any other non-military aspirations?" he prodded. "Do you want a wife? A family? A home?"

This one surprised me even more. I had never once in my life thought about actually _marrying _Rebecca. Children – what would I want them for? They would just complicate my life. They'd constantly need to be fed, need to be played with, need to be cleaned up after, need to be cared for – and the _screaming_. "A home is all I want of those. And I can always live in the castle. Besides Tornac, I'm only seventeen. All that can wait. I won't have to worry about it for years." It seemed to me that he was being the irrational one.

Tornac seemed to analyze me carefully, then sighed. The trail we had walked was short and we were nearing the end. The castle was in sight again on the other side of a fence and a field where the horses were kept. The sun had come up, and it seemed as though a beautiful day was ahead of me. I wasn't very careful about hiding the fact that I wanted to be free from Tornac.

"You seem anxious to be somewhere else," he said. "And I suppose that if we talked a few more hours, you would be none the wiser about this subject. You may go."

"Thank you," I said hastily. "I'll think about what you said."

"No you won't," he replied, shaking his head. "But I suppose you wouldn't be you if you did otherwise. Enjoy your day. We'll make up for lost training tomorrow."

I was already far away and nearing the castle by the time he finished. Like he said, I was carefree. I didn't think ahead. I had no idea that one day I would remember his words and hate myself for not listening.

**End of Flashback**

The more I reminisced and the more I contemplated what had gotten me to this point, the more and more I began to be convinced I had found the problem. The source of all my troubles.

Anna.

I had never wanted a family. What did a man like me want a family for? I didn't want to throw my life away to trail after some snot-nosed brats. I didn't want a daughter. Any affection I felt for Anna was purely out of obligation and – to some extent – pity. The more I thought the more I disliked her. In my head she was no longer a little girl with bouncing curls. She was worst mistake I could have made. Fathering a child was now, in my mind, the worst thing that could have happened to me. Why was this forced upon me? Why couldn't it just have been me and Rebecca – forever young and forever together? She was all I wanted. Did she have to come with this…this thing too?

I was angry now. I was certain Anna had ruined my life.

**A/N: And it can only get worse… **


	17. strawberry Suave

**A/N: I have not forgotten you. I have accidentally ignored you. There is a difference. Sort of. **

**Alright, alright, I'm sorry. **

**Not good enough?**

**I AM SO SORRY! I AM A HORRIBLE HORRIBLE PERSON WHO DESERVES FLAMES AND BAD KARMA GALORE! I AM SORRY I'M A TOTAL DITCHER AND A RUDE, YELLOW BELLIED, JERKISH, CHILDISH FLECK OF BUMFLUFF! (to quote Sarah)**

**Better?**

**I really am sorry for not updating in about a gazillion years. But I am alive (now), so I will update once more. Again, I apologize. Let me know if I can make it up to you somehow.  
**

**Chapter's named after my shampoo, which keeps my hair clean and smelling like strawberries. **

Rebecca's POV

A soft cry woke me. I opened my eyes and looked around. "Hm?" The noise was coming from the tiny crib beside my bed. I looked in at my baby, who in return broke into a full blown wail. But this didn't bother me at all. I had actually grown to…maybe not love, but quite possibly like, baby cries. Even at their loudest they were sweet, and they came from such a helpless tiny little thing. Toddler tears were very different, and then there were the full grown children or young women…well, she was a baby now and I'd just take everything as it came.

"Hey," I cooed softly into the crib. "What's the matter?"

I took her out of the crib and sat in on my bed, my back against the bed board. "Hungry _again_?" I asked. Anna whimpered.

A moment later as she happily ate I couldn't help but stare at my baby, admiring her every feature. Her ears were perfectly shaped, her fingernails had a beautiful sheen, her hair was starting to grow into thick black curls. Her big blue eyes and rosy cheeks contrasted her long black eyelashes and when she looked at you it made you feel as though you were the most important person in the world. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was furious, scared, and overall miserable. But after a while, as I began to feel her move and kick, I felt…better. Like I was doing something important. There was this living thing who one day would be a human being growing inside of me. I was nurturing it and growing it. And eventually I loved her.

Women would gossip and point as I walked about the town. I didn't blame them – I looked so young and was obviously very pregnant. No ring was on my finger and no man walked by my side. They shook their heads. "Tsk tsk," they'd say. "Pray the child not be the same." 

Nevertheless, I walked tall and proud, holding my head high. "I was proud of you before you were even born," I whispered to Anna. I knew she would be perfect. No mother couldn't be proud of my Annabella. No one.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" the women would ask when I took Anna outside after she was born.

"For what?" I replied. "I don't have anything to be ashamed for." I feel no shame, only the opposite, I would think.

"You don't have a husband," a skinny one said pointedly.

"No, and I won't in the immediate future. I still have too much left to do and too much now to do; it would complicate my life if I was constantly worrying about serving my husband _and_ taking care of my baby, not to mention myself. " The women twittered amongst themselves at an alarming rate.

"You're a slut!" one of them finally shouted, unable to control herself.

The conversation had taken a very different turn. My somewhat pompous…jeering (I admitted I was goading them) was no longer taken so lightly, as it had been before, mainly by the younger women. I stopped. "Be careful what you say," I said quietly. I clung a little tighter to Anna.

Others joined in. "Get off the street!" the skinny woman cried.

"I have as much a right to be here as any of you," I said smoothly. I didn't want to scare Anna by shouting. Pride had turned to fear, fear to anger. "You're all just jealous."

"Jealous?" jeered a wide one. "Jealous of what?"

"Jealous of my baby. She's sweeter and more beautiful and taken care of then any of your brats. Jealous because the father of my child actually loved me!"

"But not enough to marry you!" cried a woman I recognized. "We" – she geustured at the group – "are married to the men who love us. They don't take what they want and move on!"

"They're stuck. They would go if they could, and you know it."

"They could go if they wanted, yet they don't. My husband loves me," she bragged.

"No he doesn't, Helena," I said softly, though I allowed a barely perceptible amount of acid to leak into my voice. "He never wanted to marry you – even you know he loved Isabel. In fact he probably still does." I shook my head. "You had a baby just two months after you two got married. I saw you the day of the wedding – remember? Your stomach was big and he looked terribly sad. What a poor boy – he deserved so much more."

Helena seethed.

"Tsk tsk," I said, mimicking the women who looked down on me. "And it wasn't even his. It was wicked of you to make him think that, Helena, just wicked. I didn't realize you were so desperate."

I had always done that. I pushed people too far. I made them angry – especially the ones I knew well. I could figure out all their weaknesses and therefore pushed and pushed and pushed where they were most likely to break until they did.

"Shut up!" she screamed. "Shut up! You don't have the right to say anything you whore! Get off the street – innocent children can see you! This city is filthy enough – don't soil it more!" Instinctively, she reached for a rock on the ground and hurled at me.

Other women threw stones too, brave enough now to do so although they were cowards alone. Some hit me, most missed, but one with a sharp edge hit Anna on her right cheek. She wailed and reached for me, blood running down from the wound.

All the women dropped their stones, ashamed. They meant to drive me off the street, not to hurt the baby. They all went away and into their homes.

My world seemed to fall apart. I cradled my baby between my shoulder and my hand, and my tears mixed with her blood. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, rocking her back and forth. "I'm so sorry sweetheart, this was my fault." I spat the last words again. "All my fault. Shhh, shhhhhhhh…" I took her to a healer right away who cleaned and bandaged the cut, and told me it would heal but was deep. The scar was still fading. I never aggravated anyone again. It was experiences like that one that changed me – I was no longer so headstrong – no, I wasn't strong at all – except for Anna. I couldn't be strong for myself.

I didn't like the memory, so instead I tried to cherish the precious moment we had now. As she finished feeding, I carefully rewrapped her baby blanket around her and rocked her gently, singing softly under my breath. "Hushaby, don't you cry, go to sleep little baby." I couldn't remember where I had learned the song. "When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses." I wondered if my own mother had sung it to me. "Blacks and bays, dapples and grays." No, my mother was never very…maternal. "Coach and six white horses." I was determined to love and cherish this child the way my mother had never done to me. "Hushaby, don't you cry, go to sleep little baby." She would know her mother loved her. "When you wake you'll have sweet cake." Maybe somehow that could make up for everything else. "And all the pretty little horses." For the taunts and humiliation she would endure because I wasn't married. "Hushaby." For the lack of money and clothing and pretty dolls and toys. "Don't you cry." For the war. "Sleep my dear…" For never having a father.

---

I awoke from the dream humming. My baby wasn't with me. And she was no longer a baby – she was a little girl. The scar on her cheek was barely visible. She liked to sing and hated vegetables. She could ride a horse – barely – and loved to be read to. On sunny days she'd pick the "flowers" (weeds) out in the back and bring them in for me. I would put them in a small glass vase – the only one we had – and leave them on the front counter. Anna would beam.

But she was gone. I didn't know where she was. My only child – my daughter, my baby, my sweetheart – was gone.

I was surprised when I didn't start crying.

Murtagh's POV

Rebecca came to see me that afternoon as I walked around the castle. It was the beginning of spring, but I was in a horrible mood. One of those passive-aggressive moods where you don't _want_ to cheer up – you'd just like to sulk. I had sat down on a small bench near the libraries when I heard her footsteps. She walked up to me slowly and timidly, and her hands shook. "Murtagh?" she asked quietly when she reached me.

"Yes, Rebecca?" I couldn't help but be happy she was actually speaking to me. I cursed the happiness. I wanted to be left alone.

"Do you have any other news of Anna?"

Not that damn little girl again.

"No," I said, trying to hide my anger and resentment. "I'm sorry, I don't."

"Oh." She was silent. She stared at the floor and everything about her appeared almost completely normal but her eyes. Her eyes looked sad. But she was so beautiful. She had changed, in so many ways, but I could still see the girl I had fallen in love with. Her cheeks were still a rosy red color and her eyes were still stunningly blue. Her face was rounder than would typically be called beautiful, but it wasn't ugly, and it made her look more like a child. Her hair was pulled back so it looked shorter, like she had worn it before, and suddenly all I wanted was to have my Becca back. Not this unhappy, stressed, worried Rebecca who stood before me but the Becca who I had been such friends with, the Becca I'd loved, the Becca who teased and loved and laughed with me too.

"Perhaps you could help me find her," I lied. "We can meet everyday in the library and see what we can do to locate her."

"I'm not allowed in the library."

"You'll be fine if you're with me." Now she couldn't work alone; she'd have to be with me. Maybe after long hours with each other, after endless conversations and working together, she'd finally come round. Maybe we could be together again. Just like before.

"Alright," she agreed. "Let's start now." She practically flew through the castle halls.

Everyday we'd spend hours pouring over maps. "Where would she go?" I'd ask.

"She doesn't know anywhere outside of the city, and the horse was found in Furnost. Do you have any friends or relatives there who may have taken her somewhere?

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I may have once met someone from there, but Anna wouldn't know anyone."

"Then we must assume she fell off the horse, or got off it at some point."

Her eyes were sad again.

"I'll send out troops to search for her everywhere south of Uru'baen."

I always said things like that. "I'll double the number of men searching for her." "They may have a lead along the banks of the Tiidosten. I'll check up on that." "And inside informant mentioned something about rebels shipping women and children to a small island not too far from the coast, in preparation for battle. I've sent someone to find more." "I've sent undercover investigators to Surda; maybe something will turn up there." All lies. All false hope and promises. The only men concerned at all with finding her was the small group Galbatorix had sent months ago when he first found out about Rebecca and Anna. I didn't want to hurt Rebecca, I loved her. But I didn't want to hurt us, either. And Anna would do that.

Rebecca ignored me completely.

"She's out there. I know it." "Please be alright, Anna. Mommy's going to find you honey, it's okay." "I pray every morning and every night that she is alive and well. I hope whatever gods watch over this land will protect her." "Do you think she's safe?" "Is she alright?" "What if something has happened to her?"

Anna, Anna, Anna, ANNA! That's all she ever talked about. Anna this, Anna that, it drove me mad. Envy ate me alive. Couldn't she just be happy with me? I loved her – wasn't that enough? The way she went on and on was infuriating. Anna had ruined my life for the short moment she was a part of it, and even now that she was out of it she continued to do so. All I wanted was another chance. To start with a clean slate and go back to how things had been – to when I had been happy. Just me and Becca. I wanted my mistakes to disappear.

"The soldiers aren't working hard enough," Rebecca snapped one day as she threw everything off the table. Maps, quills, ink bottles, and papers went flying. An old man looked disapproving and walked out of sight, a slave boy darted to pick it up. She ignored everyone. "Make them question everyone in Furnost again – there must be someone who has seen her! There has to be!"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "It will be alright in the end," I said. And it would be. When she finally realized this was nonsense. The girl was already dead – she had to be – and the sooner she accepted that the better.

"But maybe it won't," she choked. I knew she didn't want me to see her cry, but I didn't want to look away. She turned and collapsed onto the desk, burying her face in her arms. Silent sobs shook her entire body.

I gently rested my hands on her shoulders, and leaned in. "I love you," I told Rebecca for the first time in weeks. She didn't say anything. Her shoulders continued to shake. I kissed her at the base of her neck and turned to go.

At long last I found who I was looking for; a friend of mine named James. He was polishing swords in the armory.

"Murtagh!" he cried when he saw me. "How are you?" James had a way of being almost perpetually happy to see anyone. He smiled often, but not to the point of silliness. He could be serious, and he was unbelievably intelligent once you got him talking about tactics and strategies. And, perhaps most noteworthy of all, he was one of the few men in charge of various parts of Galbatorix's empire who was not completely corrupt.

"I need to talk to you."

He put his work down. "Nice to see you too."

I ignored any of his lightheartedness. "This is serious."

He looked at me quizzically. "Alright," he said at last.

"Despite any title, everyone knows that you run the military, James, you have more control over it than even the King does. I know you could name all of your troops and their exact location right now if I asked you to."

"Well, not all-"

I held up my hand. "Then most. It doesn't matter. I need you to do me a favor."

"And what is the cost?"

"Nothing," I said. "I thought you had more faith in me than that."

"Faith," he replied. "I don't really have any. Nobody does these days, do they?" He sounded almost melancholy. My thoughts fluttered to Rebecca and her constant belief Anna was alive and well, but I managed to push those thoughts out of my mind.

"Nevertheless, I need you to do something for me. There is a small group of troops searching for a girl down in Furnost; her name is Anna."

"Your daughter," he observed.

"No," I said, and felt absolutely no remorse or shame. I would go to hell for that. "It was a mistake. A plea for attention, a waste of time. We are preparing for a battle and need all troops. Call of the search."

He stared.

"Call it off," I repeated. I turned to leave, but didn't quite yet. "I know this mission has been more or less a well kept secret thus far," I said. "I would appreciate it if you used the utmost discretion in this matter as well."

"Of course," James said.

"Good." I returned to the main part of the castle and to the library.

"I've doubled the troops looking for her yet again," I told Rebecca.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you. Don't worry, we will find Anna. We will."

Rebecca's POV

Hours that melted into days that melted into weeks passed, and all I knew was misery. My daughter had not been returned to me, and I did not know if she ever would. Once, as I lay in bed staring at the fabric above me, I had almost been able to see my life in perspective. I realized that I hadn't talked to Kat in days, and when I did I was distracted and my answers were automatic. She had found friends in her prison, somehow, and was no longer around me nearly as much. Our short friendship when we were five years old hadn't been enough to really last us so many years apart, I wondered why I felt compelled to be her friend the moment I saw her again. The cooks and maids I had been almost friends with – at least casually – were no longer speaking to me. I hadn't been to the kitchen in weeks, I hardly ate or drank or slept. But none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but my daughter.

It occurred to me that perhaps I was not doing all I could by sitting in the library pouring over maps and books and talking about her. I knew I would not be able to leave the castle grounds – Galbatorix would never allow it. Somehow Murtagh still loved me, and while he did, I could not search for my baby myself. The moment he finally and completely fell out of love with me I would be allowed to go search myself. For now I could not leave, but I did have seemingly endless resources at my command. At least, he did. But maybe I could speak directly to the military, the members of the search parties. Maybe somehow that would help.

"Terrance?" I asked one night when he came to bring me food. He looked startled at first that I had actually spoken to him. I tried to ignore this. "Who would you say is the most prominent figure in the military, aside from the king himself?"

His surprised expression faded and he went on as though everything was exactly the same as it had been before. "Officially?" he asked. "Henry Jarredson. He is the head of all military activity. But in all honesty, James is."

"James?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm not sure what is surname is. James is what everyone calls him. He knows and remembers every troop, every battle, every operation, though technically he's…I believe…fourth in command? Henry is too scared to do or know anything useful, and his right hand man Neil – son of Paul, the head of financial affairs, is too old to care, much less act."

"And where might I find James?"

He shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure – I suggest the stables or the armory."

"What does he look like?"

"He's tall, yellow hair, tan skin, and looks like a perfect soldier ought to look from his clothes to his teeth. You'll be able to tell that it's him when you see him."

"Alright." I nodded. "Thank you for your help."

Terrance bowed. "You are welcome milady," he said. "Goodnight." He smiled before leaving.

I returned the smile too late. "Goodnight."

Afterwards I lay awake in bed, unable to do and stared at the canopy overhead. I watched the patterns in it; they looked like waves. I had never seen the ocean before – I wasn't sure if I even believed such a thing existed – but I had seen the various ponds and lakes that surrounded the castle. The slightest breezes made the folds of deep blue fabric rise and fall and dip and twist around one another, and I watched until I was lost in the heavy dark cloth. It was strangely comforting to lose myself almost entirely. I was no longer Rebecca, lying here in bed. I was no longer Rebecca, whose parents had disowned her after she got pregnant at fifteen. I was no longer Rebecca, who was just realizing how little she knew about love and how much she loved simultaneously. I was no longer Rebecca, who had been through hardship after hardship only to end up a prisoner in her former home. I was no longer Rebecca, with a lost daughter and a shamed father and a dead brother and Murtagh. Rebecca, for this time and place, had ceased to exist.

I drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, too tired to even dream.

I awoke almost at the crack of dawn and dressed silently. I wasn't hungry, and I managed to slip out of the castle without running into Kat or Murtagh.

The morning was cold and clear; things seemed to be a little harder and a little more real, as though someone had carefully outlined everything in thick black ink. I shivered and wished I had brought a cloak, but I wasn't quite cold enough to go back to get one. The sky was a pale blue gray, with streaks of sunlight magnificently spanning across it as the sun rose in the east. If you looked hard enough, you could barely see the last few stars fading away, hiding behind the blanket of dawn. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked around, then made my way to the stables.

The stable boys and squires were already up and about, working hard to clean, shoe, brush, and generally prepare and care for the horses. They all seemed too young to be the man Terrance had described, but I wanted to make sure. "James?" I asked them each as I went through the stables. "Are you James?" "Sorry, but do you happen to be James?" "What's your name?" "Excuse me – are you-?"

I went through several Christophers, Brians, Ryans, and Davids, but no luck. I sighed and turned back toward the castle to try to find the armory.

This took longer than I thought; as it was conveniently placed in the region of the castle I knew the least. I had grown up here, but most of my time was spent outside whenever possible. And I had never been needed in this part of my castle. By the time I did find it the sun had fully risen, the castle had woken and the world had begun to warm up. The large room was fuller than I expected, with soldiers and servants bustling back and forth in and out of the large room. I looked around and my gaze fell upon a group of men surrounding a small table in the far corner.

I picked James out almost immediately – he was exactly as Terrance described; he looked like a soldier. He was strong, but not so big that maneuvering on a horse in a full suit of armor would be difficult. His hair was cut short and his skin was tanned; he obviously spent much of his time outside. He had strange eyes; one was brown, the other blue. And they seemed as though somehow they picked up every detail and the look on his face made it appear that he also analyzed these details and made a decision based on them almost instantly. Along with his alertness and despite his youth – he could not be that much older than Murtagh – he also looked experienced and as though nothing could surprise him anymore.

I walked across the room, and was very happy that I didn't attract much attention as I did so – everyone seemed to be concentrating very hard on whatever task was at hand. I stopped when I reached the table.

James – well, who I thought was James – looked up from a map spread across the table immediately and his dark brown eyes met mine. He studied me for seconds that felt like hours and then straightened up. The man who had been talking to him stopped speaking and looked at me as well.

"May I help you?" the possible James asked.

It took a moment to find my voice – I was too aware of how closely he was monitoring me. He was monitoring everything, actually, but the focus that was directed at me was disconcerting. "Y-yes. Are you James?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. First, last, and hopefully only."

I relaxed a little. "May I speak to you?" I asked. "In private – I will only take a moment of your time." I just needed to see if there was anything else I could do to help find my daughter, and I wanted to hear for myself what was being done.

"Of course," he said. He stood. "I'll be a moment – please continue without me," he said politely to the other two gentlemen at the table. They nodded and he gracefully walked around the table to me and led me out the door. He moved almost like a dancer – limber and poised. I tried not to stare as we left. He would be the perfect soldier – strong and experienced but still flexible and young. I wondered if he ever felt invincible, and if so I wondered what that was like. The feeling that you were in complete and total control. It sounded nice.

He turned suddenly and I almost crashed into him after we had walked to a more deserted hallway. "Yes?" he asked. "Do you need something?"

"Oh," I said, taking a step back. "I just had a question."

"Good. Questions are good. Despite popular belief, there is no such thing as a stupid question – only an inquisitive idiot."

Somehow I smiled. I_ smiled_. "True," I agreed. My smile vanished as I returned to the topic. "I was told that you are – perhaps not officially, but indisputably – the most powerful man in the military."

"I suppose one could argue that," he said with a casual shrug.

"So you know about every military thing that is going on?"

He shrugged again, then nodded.

I took a deep breath. "So you know about the search for Anna."

He smiled, but looked very confused. "Who?"

"Anna – Murtagh's daughter."

"Oh," he said. "Yes, I do."

My heart skipped a beat. Any news of Anna would make me happy now – as long as there was something.

"And?"

"I'm sorry, that matter is confidential, on a strictly need-to-know basis. Who are you anyway?"

"I need to know!" I cried. "Please – doesn't the fact that I am even aware of the search when obviously the military has used so much discretion mean that I must be actively involved with her case?"

He smiled. "Alright. It's not as though your knowing makes much of a difference anyway."

"Thank you. Now then, his daughter…?"

"Oh she's not really his daughter."

I had been prepared for almost everything but this. The words didn't make sense. I had never been with anyone but Murtagh before her birth, of course she was his child. I stared at this ridiculous man, my eyes wide and my mouth slightly open. He continued.

"That search was called off perhaps a week or so ago."

That didn't make sense either – nothing made sense. Who was James? Clearly he was dillusional. He did not have any of the information he was renouned for. "C-called off?" Called off! What was he saying? Meaning…ended? They weren't even trying anymore? They were giving up?

"Yes." He nodded. "Why?"

"By who?!" I demanded, suddenly livid. Who would _dare_ do such a thing – against my wishes, Murtagh's wishes, the King's wishes?! They would pay. A precious week had been lost because of them, a week in which they could've found my daughter and I would've seen my baby again.

"Murtagh," he said, still staring at me. He was more focused on me now than he had been before, but this time it wasn't upsetting to me in any way. I hardly noticed.

Numb. That was how I felt. I couldn't feel anything. My entire body went limp and I was vaguely aware of the fact that the floor had slid up to meet me as my legs gave way. I realized that my grief was beyond tears. I simply sat there, unthinkingly, unfeelingly, confused and hurt. I hardly noticed that James was kneeling on the ground beside me with his hands on my shoulders, shaking me slightly as he said something. I looked up at him. I could see his mouth moving but what came out was in a foreign language. My eyes met his and I blinked. His mouth stopped moving so fast and now the steady stream of words slowed and grew quieter. He stood, and slowly helped me to do so as well. I said something to him, though I wasn't quite sure what, and he asked me a question in return. I mechanically nodded, he said something else and then walked away. I turned and walked slowly but deliberately in the opposite direction to search for Murtagh.

He was coming out of the library when I saw him. "There you are!" he said. "I waited forever, where were you?"

I didn't say anything. I stared at the floor, tracing the stone outlines in my head and carefully trying to etch the image into my mind. It was dull but still took concentration, which was what my goal had been the whole time.

"Rebecca?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

I stopped looking at the floor and slowly raised my head. "You…you…" I started.

"What?"

"You called it off," I choked. "You called…off…"

"Called off what, Rebecca? What's the matter – you look awful, are you ill?"

I shook my head and held it higher. "You called off the search." He stared quizzically back at me. "The search for our daughter," I explained. "You stopped looking for her."

He suddenly realized I knew what he had done, and he didn't know what to say. "I had to," he said at last. "I had to."

"Had to? Had to!" I shouted. I was angry again. "Why?! How could you Murtagh – she was my _daughter_! My baby, my little girl – what is the matter with you?!"

"Rebecca," he said soothingly, coming closer, "it will be alright."

"No it won't! I'm never going to see my child again! I'll never see her…again…" I struggled to speak.

He wrapped his arms around me tightly. "I had to," he said simply. "Don't worry, you'll be able to move on soon. It's been months, even now I know you are starting to heal. You can get over this. I realize you are angry, but I'm telling the truth. You wouldn't understand, but-"

As he lied to me I was overwhelmed by rage. I wanted to hurt him, the way he had hurt me. I wanted to make him realize what he had done was wrong, that he shouldn't have done it, I wanted him to beg for mercy.

He pressed my face against his shoulder, his hand softly stroking my hair. "It is for the best," he said. "I promise it, Becca, I-"

I stayed that way for a moment, cradled in the arms of the man I hated most in all the world. It was tempting to cave. Tempting to agree, to break, to tell him he was right. That I loved him. That Anna was gone now, there was no hope, and I could move on. I could heal, I could be happy with him again, and we would be together…

But how could I do that? How could I forget so easily the life I had brought into this world? How could I give up on my _baby_? I carried her, I gave birth to her, I cared for and loved her more than anyone else in the world. She was my world – she was perfect. Ultimately, I would choose her over Murtagh. I had learned to live without him. But even months after she had gone missing, I still was almost unable to go on. I would miss her more than I would miss him. I wanted her back.

I pulled away and broke his grasp. "I hate you!" I shrieked. "Murderer! Liar! Hypocrite!" I called him all manner of things, and the words didn't stop. I had no idea what I would say next and my mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, shaping the words and spitting them out before I thought them. "You're ruthless, uncaring, selfish – you don't give a damn about your own daughter! She is your flesh and blood, Murtagh, and you as good as killed her! I hate you – I want my daughter back! I want her back!" I screamed and screamed and screamed at him.

Murtagh endured it silently at first, expressionless except for his eyes. I could see nothing but hatred in them. "SHUT UP!" he suddenly roared. "SHUT UP!"

I continued yelling; I couldn't stop. Neither of us could stop.

"You want to know how I could do such a thing?! I hate her, Becca! I hate that little girl and I wish she didn't exist! She ruined my life!"

What was he saying? Anna, precious, beautiful, sweet little Anna had made my life worth living. She was perfect, how could anyone not adore her? "What…what?! How could she, if anything she made your life better-!"

"I cannot stand the thought of that child!" he roared, venom leaking into his voice. "I loathe her."

"How? How does a man – how can a man – hate his own child?!"

"I don't want her to be my daughter! I don't see her as my daughter."

"Well, it would've been nice to think about that before you slept with me!" We were back to shouting.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted back. "I was seventeen – the last thing I had on my mind was _birth control_! Though don't you dare try to blame this only on me-"

"I'm not blaming Anna on you!" I shrieked. "I'm not blaming her on anybody, she is not something someone must be blamed for! She is a gift, an angel, I'm glad I have her! I'm _blaming_ you for your own feelings – for being selfish and horrid and not wanting your Anna! My Anna! Man up, Murtagh, take a little responsibility for once in your life! Go and find her and bring her back!"

He glowered at me. "No," he said in a low voice. "I'm glad to be rid of her."

I couldn't take anymore. The only emotion I seemed to have was the feeling that I was completely overwhelmed. There was too much to cope with, and I simply couldn't. I couldn't cope, I couldn't do anything. I was literally powerless.

Something inside of me seemed to die. Maybe it was my love for Murtagh, or my dreams about one day being reunited with my daughter, or my will to live. Or perhaps it was just any and all of the hope I had harbored and kept alive so carefully. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the tears. "Murtagh, you don't want to do this-"

"Yes," he said, "I do. I wish Anna had never been born, Rebecca, and nothing will ever change my mind." He turned and vanished into the darker corners of the castle. I sunk to the floor, too weak to stand, but once again, I found myself unable to cry.

**A/N: So…yeah. There you go. Rebecca loves Anna more than she herself can comprehend, and Murtagh hates her just as much. And based on my recent assessment and new plans for the story, it seems things do not bode well for Murtagh, Rebecca, or even James or Terrance. All in all, everyone's life is doomed to suck (is this story getting rather…soap operatic?). If it is any comfort, Anna's actually okay at the moment, and I will stop rambling….now. **


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